Mateo
Mateo nods, because if there's one thing that growing up does to a person, it's make them more open to the big picture, tragic as it might be. And so despite wondering the same thing himself, he's also painfully aware that had his older sister lived and grown as she had meant to, he'd likely have never existed. There was simply no need for a Mateo in a world where Aoife was whole and happy. Even so, he hopes she'd have liked him.
Tilting his block this way and that after adding a few shades of darker blue, Mateo's watercolour is turning out a great deal moodier than the skyline allows for, but such is creative interpretation. (That's what he tells himself anyway).
But as Remi continues, the boy can't help his smile, and he reaches out suddenly to drag a finger through one of the splotches of yellow on Remi's canvas, creating a shooting star of sorts. "Thank you, Dad," he mumbles. "I wish she would speak to you the way I do, though. She..." His brow furrows and he shakes his head. "Sometimes it feels like she blames you for everything. It is one of the things we argued about."
Tilting his block this way and that after adding a few shades of darker blue, Mateo's watercolour is turning out a great deal moodier than the skyline allows for, but such is creative interpretation. (That's what he tells himself anyway).
But as Remi continues, the boy can't help his smile, and he reaches out suddenly to drag a finger through one of the splotches of yellow on Remi's canvas, creating a shooting star of sorts. "Thank you, Dad," he mumbles. "I wish she would speak to you the way I do, though. She..." His brow furrows and he shakes his head. "Sometimes it feels like she blames you for everything. It is one of the things we argued about."
i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
