Wren
I need the clouds to cover me
There they were. Her eyes.
Wren’s fingers tightened where they hid in the sleeves of her sweater, the fabric twisting between them as if she could anchor herself to it. She didn’t answer right away. She tried to force a smile but couldn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, or didn’t think he deserved to be greeted with kindness, but there was a hold on her that she didn’t understand but it was at the depth of every one of her cells.
Her gaze held his, searching openly and intently, for something she couldn’t name. There was a flicker of it, just beneath the surface of him, something that tugged low in her chest, sharp and unsteady. It made her inhale a little too quickly, shoulders rising before she forced them down again.
She shifted in her chair. “Hi,” she said at last, her voice softer than she intended with a crackle to it that she didn’t expect. It made her clear her throat. Then she pulled one hand free, reaching for the mug more for something to do than any desire to drink. The ceramic clinked faintly against the table as she set it back down.
“You found it okay?” The question came out automatic, a placeholder to the kindness she held so intrinsically in her heart, and she looked down at the chair across from her, then her coffee, her eyes not ready to drift back to her own painted on his face.
Wren’s fingers tightened where they hid in the sleeves of her sweater, the fabric twisting between them as if she could anchor herself to it. She didn’t answer right away. She tried to force a smile but couldn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, or didn’t think he deserved to be greeted with kindness, but there was a hold on her that she didn’t understand but it was at the depth of every one of her cells.
Her gaze held his, searching openly and intently, for something she couldn’t name. There was a flicker of it, just beneath the surface of him, something that tugged low in her chest, sharp and unsteady. It made her inhale a little too quickly, shoulders rising before she forced them down again.
She shifted in her chair. “Hi,” she said at last, her voice softer than she intended with a crackle to it that she didn’t expect. It made her clear her throat. Then she pulled one hand free, reaching for the mug more for something to do than any desire to drink. The ceramic clinked faintly against the table as she set it back down.
“You found it okay?” The question came out automatic, a placeholder to the kindness she held so intrinsically in her heart, and she looked down at the chair across from her, then her coffee, her eyes not ready to drift back to her own painted on his face.
Pulling them down, surround me
