we are just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
His laughter is abrasive in a way that makes them feel warm inside, boyish but sharp at the edges. “Hmm, I see a handsome man yes - or perhaps many, the line isn’t clear for you - with a single child who will inherit all your hard earned wealth and possessions,” they tease, tapping their fingertips in the center of his palm the same way one pats the cover of a bound book.
Leaning forward, biddable and trusting, Ophelia laughs in turn at the man’s dramatics. Their own laugh more like the tinny sound of raining glass on a smooth floor. “I would love to see it,” it comes out wistful, but their smile is dreamlike. Hopeful. “It’s nice to already not feel this way now.” Because his company has greatly helped in putting their head on straight. “What art do you prefer Amun?” They change the topic, wanting this moment to go on even longer. “I have never so much as colored on spare pages. I would like to learn before I am to judge our peers.”
Leaning forward, biddable and trusting, Ophelia laughs in turn at the man’s dramatics. Their own laugh more like the tinny sound of raining glass on a smooth floor. “I would love to see it,” it comes out wistful, but their smile is dreamlike. Hopeful. “It’s nice to already not feel this way now.” Because his company has greatly helped in putting their head on straight. “What art do you prefer Amun?” They change the topic, wanting this moment to go on even longer. “I have never so much as colored on spare pages. I would like to learn before I am to judge our peers.”
