All expectations make her heart feel numb
Forgetting; maybe sometimes she wished she could do that. But the tides would always be over her head in some ways, the feeling of vast emptiness calling to her throughout the days and nights, until she found a way to fill it. Mabel just didn’t know with what. Rage? Revenge? Or when to go about it, how to procure everything she needed, required, to brim over the sides of her brewing maelstroms. Maybe time would ensure. Maybe after LongNight would grant and give them more opportunities. Maybe they’d survive the upcoming, ominous storms and terrors. “What do you want to forget?” A mercurial mood, another eerie hum beginning under her breath, wandering further into the fog, into its breadth and infinite poise, as if she could disappear into its murk and come out the other side.
But she could still hear him over the bleached adornments and ridges, the backbones of a bridge with too many stories and too much history. And she nearly froze in the patches of mist, eyes angling downward, over edges and fringes, over boundaries and wiles. “Yes,” she offered in return, streamlined over the bout of warren haze. “I wish more could’ve come back though.” She didn’t say who. “But I will be forever grateful to the Voice for giving me a second chance.”
But she could still hear him over the bleached adornments and ridges, the backbones of a bridge with too many stories and too much history. And she nearly froze in the patches of mist, eyes angling downward, over edges and fringes, over boundaries and wiles. “Yes,” she offered in return, streamlined over the bout of warren haze. “I wish more could’ve come back though.” She didn’t say who. “But I will be forever grateful to the Voice for giving me a second chance.”
MABEL
