love should be as flowers of the weedy sort
Kamaria's fascinated by the story Sunjata tells her, even if it is simplified. That in and of itself is enough to make her gawk at him with awe and envy. The sizzle of the stove catches her and she looks down to see a stupendous pancake. As far as pancake standards go, it does the trick. "Oooh! That one's perfect, Daddy!" She proclaims, distracted by the buttery-sweet aroma. "Just five and five more to go!" Because obviously, if he's having five, then so will she. Duh. Also, she's bad at math.
Her spirit dims, however, when he tells her that she can't get a tattoo yet. Well, that's not fair. And it doesn't make sense. Why does being older matter? She's perfectly capable of making this decision herself. "It is what I really want," she insists, pouting, "I'll still want it when I'm big too. Promise!" She wiggles in his grip insistently, "Pleaaaaase?" She stills, then, as she airs a newfound truth, "I wanna be like you... and fly!" Her arms lift up to mimic the wings of a bird, not paying much forethought to the spatula in his hand as she accidentally flings it from his grip.
"Oops..."
Her spirit dims, however, when he tells her that she can't get a tattoo yet. Well, that's not fair. And it doesn't make sense. Why does being older matter? She's perfectly capable of making this decision herself. "It is what I really want," she insists, pouting, "I'll still want it when I'm big too. Promise!" She wiggles in his grip insistently, "Pleaaaaase?" She stills, then, as she airs a newfound truth, "I wanna be like you... and fly!" Her arms lift up to mimic the wings of a bird, not paying much forethought to the spatula in his hand as she accidentally flings it from his grip.
"Oops..."
they break through cement and persist
Kamaria
