AMALIA
you're staring at the sky
watching stars collide
Amalia does not notice Adam's look, too caught up in her own indiscretions, her own dark places and drowning woes. She remembers days without the sun, sitting alone in piles of books, friends with ghosts and dusty parchment without a human soul to share. Maybe her life has been idyllic, maybe it has been marred; in the end it scarcely matters, really, because darkness does not care who you are. It does not care how you were raised, who loved you and who lost you: it eats and eats without remorse, slipping in beneath closed doors and shutting out the light.watching stars collide
So they walk down the road, two hollow people, doing their best to fill the void with whatever tools they have. Adam stumbles and she dips down to catch him, trying to secure his weight in her arm. His question elicits an uncertain laugh, a flush flying quickly across narrow cheeks. "I've only been drunk once," she replies, voice wavering. "It seems like a bad idea." But she raises the bottle to her face, taking a sniff of the liquor within, her nose wrinkling at the acrid aroma.
Bumping him gently with her shoulder, Amalia smiles wryly into the horn. "Besides,I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself in front of an fine upstanding gentleman like you."
