#scalethrown

      ❛ get your hands off me -- you’re fine. ❜

❛    DID   YOU   LOVE   HIM  ?       ❜        such  a  foolish  question.  she  knows.  intends  to  instead  spill  :  what  does  it  feel  like  ?  to  allow  your  heart  to  bleed  &  shed  for  another ,  to  feel  skin  against  skin  &  envision  a  life  with  that  one  soul.    what  does  it  feel  like  ?    CAN  I  FEEL  IT  TOO  ?   the  monarch  is  but  a  rose  removed  of  its  thorns   :   only  delicacy  &  softness  now.   it  drips  from  those  words.  leaks  from   that   stare.          ❛   i  have  never  felt  that  with  anybody.   perhaps  one  day   ...   though  such  tragedy  prevents  me  from  ever  wanting  to.    ❜  

     sloane is bewildered by the busy new yorker’s lifestyle. seeing it in movies, in scenes where it gets attacked by aliens or is the place for dramatic money laundering scams, she had not realized that it really is a city that never sleeps and would never stop even with her in it ! 

    with all these people, it’s strangely disturbing to think that she’s not the only beautiful and cool occupant, but stranger still how everything is so unpredictable. sometimes work comes first, then play; sometimes it’s neither. in the evenings tourists -- on business, on vacation, looking for jobs, looking for fun -- walk all around the streets, abandoning their cars for the footwork. she makes sure not to wear heels and not to get caught up talking to anybody trying to sell her things. 

    oh darn. she’s lost.

         “ --- The picture on your file does not do you justice.”     

         “ — ‘ey, you alright?” He’d grabbed her by the elbow before he could think better of it  —  but ‘better of it’ would be what, exactly? Allowing her to hit the ground?  —  and hasn’t yet thought to let go. “You nearly took a nasty spill, there.”

        ❛ i  used  to  want  to  become  someone  like  you.  i  went  through  law  school  for  a  little  while  but  i  discovered  something  really  important  about  myself ----  i’m  a  real  shitty  liar.  i’m  an  even  worse  bullshitter.  as  much  as  i  can  detect  it  in  other  people,  i  just  never  had  the  skill.    how  i  see  it,  if  you  can  lie  better  than  the  other  guy ... you  have  a  better  chance  of  winning  your  case.   right  ??  ❜

     “ here, lemme take that. ”  he means her coat, to hang up on one of the hooks by the door.  it’s late and a little cold outside, but the penthouse apartment he and antoinette have been living in for the last few years isn’t reflecting any of the chill.  at least not literally: it’s a sparsely decorated place, mostly black and white with occasional gold accents.  he let antoinette decorate.