❛     MORE LIKE A BITE IN THE WRIST.     ❜     it’s spoken softly,     a sullen tone for a very sullen girl.     for she could not recall a single time she had heard someone utter the words      𝕀 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼 𝕐𝕆𝕌.     perhaps once,     the night her father left.     it was probably whispered and hurried seconds before he ran off into the night with a packed suitcase.     she wondered if he thought of her during the late nights.    (     NO,     HE DIDN’T DESERVE YOU.     )     no.     there is no such thing as love.     love was a concept,     just a word.  

(     NO,     REMEMBER ME.     REMEMBER MY LOVE.     )     you are the only one,     mama.

and with that,     a gentle smile.     tucks orange strands behind an ear as cheeks turn to poppies.     she’s loved by one,     that is enough consolation for the moment.     all she needed was reassurance from her entity and she blossoms.     

                                              ‘ i, ’   danny starts, his voice wavers and he blinks hard.   ‘ i like your g-glasses. ’   oh, and as a fair warning before we go any further, he sounds like he’s about to cry. very weird business. danny shakes his head very lightly then wipes at his eye.   ‘ wish ... wish i had some of those. ’   he sniffles. there’s something very real about it but also very pretend.   ‘ would be great to see like that, you know? seems... ’   another sniffle.   ‘ really fun. really ... good, you know? to be able to see like that ... is it? ’

                               eddie’s sat glumly and almost totally quiet for the past twenty minutes.  there was the occasional foot tapping and the less frequent page turn of a comic book he was half-heartedly reading through, at times staring and trying too hard to focus on the pictures till they blurred into one heaped mess   (this is what brew the agitated foot tapping, you see. it was an agitated kind of food tapping).  he reads over the page again, and, surprise surprise, it doesn’t sink in.  he peers over the top of it at richie on the other side --- that wouldn’t happen many more times. he tried to eat that thought before he could taste it and attempts not to choke on it.  he clears his throat, gets rid of the upsetting wedge lodged in there and drops the comic book down.  ‘ should we ... ’   talk about it? make up for lost time that has not yet actually moved out of derry with the tozier’s?  neither options really sound right coming out of his mouth. he shrugs looking kind of clueless.   ‘ should we do something? ’

❝           richie,     richie!      sorry,      but    i’m    a    terrible    liar.            ❞         you’re    not    gonna    tell    him    about    that    one   time     your    mom     caught    you    out    of     bed     and    the    lie    you    told    her     ...             (       NOPE,      THERE’S    NO    WAY    YOU’RE    GONNA    TELL    ABOUT     THAT    TIME       ).       innocent    smile    forms    on    lips    as    hand    is    put    in     pocket.         ❝           i    mean,      have    you    met    me?            ❞      

quand les américains pensent qu'ils savent quelque chose au sujet du canada et le font passer pour une blague quand c'est une insulte. mon dieu. je suis fatigué.