love should be as flowers of the weedy sort
Kamaria tries to hold back her tears, not wanting to cry, not liking the feeling of it. Much of her short life has been filled with very big emotions, though, that wash over and through her one by one, sometimes all at once, and she hasn't truly taken any time to process things. Having the mind of a child, she doesn't know how to do that anyway.
Still, her own pain threads with his and it's hard to pull back from, even harder to contain. They both miss their mothers, and she knows how he must really feel deep down. No, maybe she has no idea, because his isn't still here. So when he comes down to her eye level, the tears swell in her eyes and she sniffles.
"But you're not okay. You miss your mommy," she mumbles into his shoulder, arms wrapping around his, "and you can't see her anymore." She tries to rub her hand over his back to comfort herself and him both. "That's not fair."
Still, her own pain threads with his and it's hard to pull back from, even harder to contain. They both miss their mothers, and she knows how he must really feel deep down. No, maybe she has no idea, because his isn't still here. So when he comes down to her eye level, the tears swell in her eyes and she sniffles.
"But you're not okay. You miss your mommy," she mumbles into his shoulder, arms wrapping around his, "and you can't see her anymore." She tries to rub her hand over his back to comfort herself and him both. "That's not fair."
they break through cement and persist
Kamaria
