July 2011
1 post
She curls her fingers behind my ear and purrs as the bruised clouds jostle.I want to speak, but I breathe in and out and words don’t come.And perhaps that’s for the best.
April 2011
1 post
2 tags
She isn’t ever quite sure what provokes her to the point of smiling at him. He’s been claimed by a mess of ashes and beer bottles already, and she’ll never save him, but that’s no reason not to try. Her words are usually reassuring, and he believes that she’s exactly who she says she is because she gives him no reason to think otherwise. She’s the only one to...
March 2011
1 post
he’s all ribs and she counts them, one two three under her fingers like piano keys
she’s all curves and he closes his eyes and digs in his nails and smells what he decides to call ‘lilacs’, even though he doesn’t really know
prying fingers are the best secret-finders.
February 2011
2 posts
“One shot, that’s all you get here.”
An apology crumbled off Falk’s lips. Dean squinted at him.
“And you think that covers this?” One hand, outstretched accusatorially, the fingers tensed like rusted hinges.
“No.” Filthy little knots of words threatened to shift forward, too, but were swallowed down, scraping down his throat as they somersaulted...
“Taddy—” (That’s short for Thaddeus) “—I can’t find my—”
“Here.” He holds up one hand, and there’s her shoe, strappy and high-heeled, dangling off one long finger precariously. She breathes relief, glad not for the first time that he uses words thriftily, as though too many can be said at once.
One of his hands tangles in her hair as she leans close (it was already tangledenough) and his sigh...