#sweetandsure

Anchor Stitch

by sweetandsure

The thing is, she remembers him. This hulking shadow in the frame of the doorway. A big, dusty duffle bag next to big, dusty, heavy boots. A thick, silver ring, clinking against the neck of a beer bottle. That’s all she can think about when they say his name the first time in the warm office of the group home. Just that clink of his ring against a brown bottle in the hazy blue glow of the TV. A droning laugh-track and her parents' laughter mixing in. His eyes sometimes, sliding to her, sitting in the hallway and peeking in. She can’t remember him ever laughing. Your father’s brother, Miss Andrea said. Logan. Did you know about him?

anchor stitch @sweetandsure

Ellie straightens, shifting in her seat a bit, their thighs pressing together. And even through the three… alright, she thinks, maybe two and a half layers of fabric, he’s warm.

(In her head, for a second before she can push it away, she thinks about tucking herself closer, curving into his side until he curls an arm around her.)