this message may be
offensive
brows crease near the center as the rest of her features are pulled inward and wound tight enough to create knots. there’s an interval of an unexplained silence that accompanies the tension settling in her posture. shoulders rolling back unconciously and for a reason all too known her wits evaporate along with her words. her mouth parts to speak, but nothing leaves it. she must’ve swallowed a bug, or perhaps a heavy reminder in the form of a pill she’s refused to take since the day she left him (i tried to and it nearly choked me). there’s something in her throat still, and she attempts to persist. “comedy theater…” subdued and diluted, words leave slowly as they trip over themselves on their way out. she walks to towards the counter, her black robe dragging against the floor. “i can do breakfast. i, um. i have some shit in the fridge. i’ll make a fuckin’ omelette or something.” thoughts form and blend together, forming black holes that swallow everything the mind creates. she distances herself for a moment, one hand on the surface and the other reaching for a pan. she stops herself, then looks towards her.
“maeve…” it falls gently, as if spoken from the mouth of another and there’s that bug again, crawling inside of her throat and eating everything that comes in its path. “nevermind, forget it.” @bloodlvers