oh, the ache within. it burns and sears and keeps her awake. too long now, she’s been up, and exhaustion tears at her warm eyes. dark bags sink deeper into the recesses of her skull. anxious energy coats her fingers as she picks up the phone. it’s so natural, how her fingers lithely cross the number pad. a number she’s leaned on, dialed without thinking. the paint on each of the number sufficiently worn away more than the others. and she hears the dial tone, a nervous exhale comes. she waits expectantly. never mind that it’s almost 2:45 am. she maybe just needs to hear his voice. make sure he’s okay.
♥ @packedmind











