New York comes close. It's just all the buildings, all the life, it cuts it a little bit.
( she enjoys those little windows into the man he'd been before someone had tried to decide such a thing for him — something as simple as that 'ma,' and yet just as readily as that warmth had slipped over her, the thought of learning someone, it's stripped from her again in a single breath. her heart lurches; thick and uncomfortable, a threat: there is nothing soft here. she doesn't mean to go quiet, doesn't realize the time that spans between his question and her reply. some part of her, splintered, is grateful for the tense he'd chosen: had. because she doesn't have to say it. not yet.
had. verb. past tense. )
A brother. It was just the two of us and my parents. They owned one of the only diners in town, we both worked there so we were just always with each other til my mom got sick. ( she clears her throat, as if any of it had been said aloud at all. ) I think we were closest then, even if we didn't act like it.
no subject
( she enjoys those little windows into the man he'd been before someone had tried to decide such a thing for him — something as simple as that 'ma,' and yet just as readily as that warmth had slipped over her, the thought of learning someone, it's stripped from her again in a single breath. her heart lurches; thick and uncomfortable, a threat: there is nothing soft here. she doesn't mean to go quiet, doesn't realize the time that spans between his question and her reply. some part of her, splintered, is grateful for the tense he'd chosen: had. because she doesn't have to say it. not yet.
had. verb. past tense. )
A brother. It was just the two of us and my parents. They owned one of the only diners in town, we both worked there so we were just always with each other til my mom got sick. ( she clears her throat, as if any of it had been said aloud at all. ) I think we were closest then, even if we didn't act like it.