Wren
I need the clouds to cover me
Wren nodded quickly, almost too quickly, latching onto the question like it was something solid she could hold. She cleared her throat slightly, shifting in her chair from one seatbone to the other. “Um—yeah,” she said, her voice steadier this time, even if it still felt a little thin. “Their honey latte is really good. It’s not too sweet.” She gave a small, tentative shrug, eyes flicking up to him for just a second before dropping again. “Or the spiced one." She wasn't drinking either of them. She just had a double espresso with a little cream.
She shifted again in her seat, fingers brushing the side of her mug, tracing the rim without lifting it. There were questions, so, so many questions pressing at the back of her mind, crowding together until they blurred. Who are you to me? Why does this feel like this? They felt close, right there, but when she tried to reach for them, it was like moving through syrup, and she felt the dull, familiar throb at the base of her skull.
Her lips parted, like she might ask something, but the words stalled before they could form. Instead, she glanced back up at him, offering a small, careful smile that she tried not to make look forced, and settled her eyes on her's -- his -- her's. “Do you, uh… come to places like this often?” she asked.
Maybe he would answer, and then ask his own questions. She didn't know.
She shifted again in her seat, fingers brushing the side of her mug, tracing the rim without lifting it. There were questions, so, so many questions pressing at the back of her mind, crowding together until they blurred. Who are you to me? Why does this feel like this? They felt close, right there, but when she tried to reach for them, it was like moving through syrup, and she felt the dull, familiar throb at the base of her skull.
Her lips parted, like she might ask something, but the words stalled before they could form. Instead, she glanced back up at him, offering a small, careful smile that she tried not to make look forced, and settled her eyes on her's -- his -- her's. “Do you, uh… come to places like this often?” she asked.
Maybe he would answer, and then ask his own questions. She didn't know.
Pulling them down, surround me
