love should be as flowers of the weedy sort
The pumpkin hides beside his companion to escape graspy fingers. Kamaria giggles as he does, but makes no further attempts to continue her pursuit of his now-tucked vines.
As she meets the woman's gilded eyes, she can clearly see the disapproval that haunts there. Her smile leaves her lips and turns into a hurt frown. She's never been so blatantly rejected before. It leaves a sharp sting that glazes her eyes, but she doesn't dare cry.
Especially not when suddenly the air turns lighter as relent takes the place of rejection. Kamaria considers the question, enthusiasm returning, a smile building back up to shake apart her pout. "Yes! I know how to make those," she boasts. And, being a child, she has a moment of childlike bluntness, giggling with it, "I can make a better one than that." She points her toe towards Melita's beginnings of a sandcastle.
As she meets the woman's gilded eyes, she can clearly see the disapproval that haunts there. Her smile leaves her lips and turns into a hurt frown. She's never been so blatantly rejected before. It leaves a sharp sting that glazes her eyes, but she doesn't dare cry.
Especially not when suddenly the air turns lighter as relent takes the place of rejection. Kamaria considers the question, enthusiasm returning, a smile building back up to shake apart her pout. "Yes! I know how to make those," she boasts. And, being a child, she has a moment of childlike bluntness, giggling with it, "I can make a better one than that." She points her toe towards Melita's beginnings of a sandcastle.
they break through cement and persist
Kamaria
