Theea
I grin at his agreement, with a little breath of relief. I may be too earnestly hopeful for a friend, but I’ve had so few of those, if any could be counted as such. “I do like a little bit of coffee with my cream and sugar sometimes,” I say. Can I drink black coffee? Sure. Do I like it? Hardly. Cream isn’t so readily available on the road, so I learned to love tea early on, with ample amounts of sugar.
My gaze falls from the Skyport to Niki when he speaks, and his expression is hard to decipher. I wonder if he resents how hard it is to get to places like that, but I’m at least wise enough not to ask such an invasive question. We’ve only just met, after all.
I smile a little at him and his response to flight and if he would go. I don’t know whether to be sad that he feels that way or glad for him, that he has such a good home. “I think you might find kindness, perhaps even accommodation elsewhere too,” I remark. “But I have to admit my jealousy of you. I’ve never had any one place to call home. A few haunts, some places my parents kept empty for when we wanted to stop for a while, or stay warm.” My expression becomes fondly nostalgic. “Some of our best memories were in those cabins and apartments, snowed in or rained in, getting through Longnight. I suppose that those places were home in their own ways.”
I swipe water from my face again, squinting one eye up at the sky. “And I suspect today is a day we would have been rained in.”
My gaze falls from the Skyport to Niki when he speaks, and his expression is hard to decipher. I wonder if he resents how hard it is to get to places like that, but I’m at least wise enough not to ask such an invasive question. We’ve only just met, after all.
I smile a little at him and his response to flight and if he would go. I don’t know whether to be sad that he feels that way or glad for him, that he has such a good home. “I think you might find kindness, perhaps even accommodation elsewhere too,” I remark. “But I have to admit my jealousy of you. I’ve never had any one place to call home. A few haunts, some places my parents kept empty for when we wanted to stop for a while, or stay warm.” My expression becomes fondly nostalgic. “Some of our best memories were in those cabins and apartments, snowed in or rained in, getting through Longnight. I suppose that those places were home in their own ways.”
I swipe water from my face again, squinting one eye up at the sky. “And I suspect today is a day we would have been rained in.”
welcome to the world of pretend
where we pretend we don't feel pain
where we pretend we don't feel pain
