KOA
No? No? Koa's eyes gleam in the afternoon light, though whether with rage or tears is entirely unclear, even to the boy. He wants to cry and he wants to laugh and he wants to scream and he wants to shake her, to grab her shoulders and pull her in for a kiss, to rewind the last five minutes of his life and return to ignorant bliss.
He does none of these things, of course, because to do one is to do them all, to let the harrowing rush of emotion overtake any remaining ability to play at being calm. So Koa continues to stare a Flora, his hands balled into white-knuckle fists, his jaw feathering, his breath coming fast.
It's not until she says it's not your fault that the façade starts to crack, a segment of stone peeling away to reveal the tangled mess beneath. "You want me to understand?" His voice is a sudden explosion in the quiet, the harsh, guttural, mirthless laugh a far cry from his usual, easy delight. For the first time Koa looks back at Flora, the hand that holds those stupid flowers thrust ineffectually at the air. "Fine. Explain. Whatever makes you feel better. Because that's what this has always been about, right? How you feel, and what you want, and how I've failed over and over to meet whatever fucking expectations---"
He stops abruptly, his teeth clicking down and his throat closing as he swallows the words. Again Koa looks away from Flora, shaking his head as though to clear it out. Any chance that he could contribute something positive is gone. All he wants now is for her to finish unloading her explanations, to let him loathe himself in peace.
He does none of these things, of course, because to do one is to do them all, to let the harrowing rush of emotion overtake any remaining ability to play at being calm. So Koa continues to stare a Flora, his hands balled into white-knuckle fists, his jaw feathering, his breath coming fast.
It's not until she says it's not your fault that the façade starts to crack, a segment of stone peeling away to reveal the tangled mess beneath. "You want me to understand?" His voice is a sudden explosion in the quiet, the harsh, guttural, mirthless laugh a far cry from his usual, easy delight. For the first time Koa looks back at Flora, the hand that holds those stupid flowers thrust ineffectually at the air. "Fine. Explain. Whatever makes you feel better. Because that's what this has always been about, right? How you feel, and what you want, and how I've failed over and over to meet whatever fucking expectations---"
He stops abruptly, his teeth clicking down and his throat closing as he swallows the words. Again Koa looks away from Flora, shaking his head as though to clear it out. Any chance that he could contribute something positive is gone. All he wants now is for her to finish unloading her explanations, to let him loathe himself in peace.
With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame
