#voidheal

Her voice is a degree softer when she pulls away.  “I missed you so much, darling.”

“you look exceptionally pensive,” she coughs lightly so as not to make too obnoxious an interruption, “and i don’t believe i know you well enough to know if that’s simply your natural state. are you alright? it’s a lovely thing, being pensive, if one is pensive for good reasons.”

“Thank you for coming with me, Mathias.”  The words are sincere, but can’t hide her near - panicked nerves as they walk into the store, fingers twisting together, shoulders hiked; a simple trip to get groceries shouldn’t prompt this kind of anxiety, and yet...  “I can’t believe they banned Hewie.”  Without the German Shepherd at her side, Fiona never feels safe, let alone in crowds.  At least she has one of her very few friends with her, and that’s all that had given her the courage to leave the house at all.  “I...I promise you won’t have to do this for me next time.  I’m trying to find a grocery store that hasn’t...”  Banned my dog for barking at a stranger who got too close.  This one is convenient for being within walking distance (  she can’t drive without crying since...  ) but she’ll figure something out.

:’’’’)

turmeric (( golden, pungent powder stains fingertips and tongues, leaving a hint of heat and orange in it’s wake. it’s smeared across a gash on his leg as a cup of tea is presses into his palm, a hand rests on his forehead, voice is soft, but cracks still )) // jasmine rice (( sweet and wafting, it doesn’t remind him of home, rather the home of another with walks within the city walls, towards ivory spires and ring adored fingers in rapid movement as his companion goes on about something or another -- kids rush between them, shouting with fair food in their hands )) // gold (( metalic, cold against his fingertips as they are pushed to the middle of the table, as rings come off hands and earings come out of ears, they push and pull with bets until calloused hands take them all with a hoity laugh. there is always next time )) // ink  (( it invades his skin, his nose, his work. they are separated, joined by a raven and the very ichor turning palms a ghastly grey hue. it’s almost metallic, but softer like two coppers rubbed against a cloth, placed on parchment to bridge a gap, to make the pain less. )) //  liquor (( tart and burning, it’s bitter to the skin it’s on their lips and clothes, staining their fingers as the bump shoulders and hazily move from their haunt to their rooms, laughing and singing for a moment, hoping the sky doesn’t fall in around them )) //  crisp winter air (( sharp and invading it’s something rueful and embedded into his memory. cold cutting through them both like a knife as complaints are states about it’s simply freezing. firewood, clean, sharp and a pop from the flames --- they laugh with their breath in the air, steam from their wine making breathing easier )). 

I BURNED A COPY OF TALE OF TWO CITIES IN HIGH SCHOOL AFTER MY ELEVENTH YEAR BECAUSE I HATED THAT BOOK SO MUCH

in the science world we call that drawing a conclusion