#!!!!! screaming

she wanders, lonely and immune to trivial things such as earthly years. her milk-blue skin is cold to the touch, unchanging. myrtle cannot believe it, but she would very much like to know what it is to rot away. anything would be better than frozen flesh and halted development. 

myrtle stares at him from under a rim of thick, black lashes. her eyes are murky, like muddy puddles and she cocks her head to the side. he sees her, doesn’t just view her. the act of looking and looking directly at her is a rare instance, one she expected from no one living. lacing her fingers together in front of her, her sad eyes blink twice and she shakes her head. 

this poor man --for he is a living man-- appears to have been left. although, myrtle’s found that abandon and isolation have similar roots beyond what one would expect. her heart aches in general, but she imagines that in the moment it partially does for the somber tone of his voice.