Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Your heroes for ghosts?
"Yes. Maybe you just don't understand because you're not creative." Sam sneered back, feeling almost protective of his shabby drawing. Because of who she was, her talents at getting to the core of his anxieties...when Evie insulted the one drawing or phrase it felt like an attack on his whole being. It was difficult to not raise his hackles, to immediately become brittle.
Her critique was not welcome. He turned, holding an arm over his drawing. "Fine. You don't like it. Someone else might. Do mother and father send you out to do this? Just...pick at me? Do you want to see me upset? I thought you might have seen that enough."
It was clear from the slightly misty anger in his eyes and the pressed-together line of his lip that he was not far from it now, the tears and pathetic panic always just below the surface.
Samuel
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
