With every broken bone, I swear I lived
"I like them a lot," she told him with an impish smile. "We have that in common." A notion that both excited and troubled her; not because it was an issue, but because she wasn't supposed to be searching for things to connect them. A bit late, given the way their hands remained clasped together and the fresh sweetness of apple juice on her tongue, but all the same... There was really no helping the way her gaze kept turning back to him. Maea studied his profile while Harper spoke, wondering at his willingness to shape his life according to the wishes of those around him. Thought of what he had told her about his life, and how he - like herself - was unable to grasp what he really wanted.
"What do you think of this place now?" she asked. "I can't make up my mind if I love it or hate it... Every once in a while I get this... itch under the skin. Like I need to move or I'll go crazy, or like I can't get enough air into my lungs. It's partly why I travel so much."
Squeezing Harper's hand, she let go and hunched down to sort out the apples around their feet. Tossing aside the rotten or worm-eaten ones, the rest were bundled up in a fold of her shirt; a treasure of waxy, dew-laden fruit that once had been the difference between living and dying. Funny, how priorities changed.
"What do you think of this place now?" she asked. "I can't make up my mind if I love it or hate it... Every once in a while I get this... itch under the skin. Like I need to move or I'll go crazy, or like I can't get enough air into my lungs. It's partly why I travel so much."
Squeezing Harper's hand, she let go and hunched down to sort out the apples around their feet. Tossing aside the rotten or worm-eaten ones, the rest were bundled up in a fold of her shirt; a treasure of waxy, dew-laden fruit that once had been the difference between living and dying. Funny, how priorities changed.
maea
