shelby grabs baby’s sleeve before he’s out of reach, gives it a firm tug to encourage him to turn around. he drops his chin and purses his lips, exhaling slowly as he suffers a shooting pain from knee to hip.  ‘ leg, ’ he signs. ‘ need a minute. ’

“What gives you the right to be asking me all these questions?“

PROMPT.

SNOWSHOES. positivity for oc roles.

they’ve run into a neighbor chris has managed to avoid since he and baby moved in, despite their being two houses down. she’s an older woman he’s known since childhood, and her memory  ---  unfortunately for him  ---  is like a steel goddamn trap.

she leads with a comment about him ‘looking healthy’ and closes with a ‘happy birthday’ and a squeeze of his hand. and then he’s exposed. and then they’re alone.

         ‘ ... before you say anything --- ’

         ‘ i know it’s not quite your speed, but it’s safe. ’ a farmhouse a while removed from the city is a departure from the lives they’ve both grown accustomed to in the states, mildly put. but it’s home for chris, no financial strain, and the two of them are out of options. ‘ and the car’s yours whenever you want it. everything’s driving distance. ’