[ Being dead has its perks; she doesn't feel the cold though she can see it all around her whether in the coats people draw tighter around them or the breath of the living hanging in small clouds before their faces. She tucks her lank hair behind her ear with her free hand, absently fiddles with the device in her other.
Don't say yes. Don't ask him for anything. Don't.
The thing is, Violet had already cared for him before she knew the other things, and even when she knew half of them she slipped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder like he was the one safe thing left. If she adopts the defense mechanism she used with her parents, she can call it a last resort but as many things as Violet may have wrong with her, stupidity was never one of them. If she loved something in Tate, she loved it and that's that. But then she hated as much or more and now here they are. She hated him for having cared about him, in a sense; it would be easier to tell him to go away if there was nothing attached to it. But there was nothing easy about it; it was simply what she knew she had to do then. Out the corner of her eye she thinks she sees her mom and her head whips around only to find no one there.
Same as being alive, part of her remarks and she tells it to shut up.
I don't know. I don't know why it's us.
He's being honest.
She grips the device tighter.
. . .This never happened to me before.
Why didn't she meet him sooner?
Biting her lip, she wishes she could feel it more. ]
I'm gonna look for the bookstore.
[ Even without Vivian here she can't just shed what she intended for Tate -- that he know he did something even Violet couldn't forgive.
It's not go and it's not I miss you and I hate you for that too. It's not even maybe. It is the most she can let herself offer -- her possible location, assuming they even would wind up in the same shop. Maybe there are ten bookstores offcenter of the City's square, twenty, thirty, or just one.
If they run into each other, she'll take it from there. And if not. Well.
They've spent their lives being alone in one way or another right?
no subject
Don't say yes. Don't ask him for anything. Don't.
The thing is, Violet had already cared for him before she knew the other things, and even when she knew half of them she slipped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder like he was the one safe thing left. If she adopts the defense mechanism she used with her parents, she can call it a last resort but as many things as Violet may have wrong with her, stupidity was never one of them. If she loved something in Tate, she loved it and that's that. But then she hated as much or more and now here they are. She hated him for having cared about him, in a sense; it would be easier to tell him to go away if there was nothing attached to it. But there was nothing easy about it; it was simply what she knew she had to do then. Out the corner of her eye she thinks she sees her mom and her head whips around only to find no one there.
Same as being alive, part of her remarks and she tells it to shut up.
I don't know. I don't know why it's us.
He's being honest.
She grips the device tighter.
. . .This never happened to me before.
Why didn't she meet him sooner?
Biting her lip, she wishes she could feel it more. ]
I'm gonna look for the bookstore.
[ Even without Vivian here she can't just shed what she intended for Tate -- that he know he did something even Violet couldn't forgive.
It's not go and it's not I miss you and I hate you for that too. It's not even maybe. It is the most she can let herself offer -- her possible location, assuming they even would wind up in the same shop. Maybe there are ten bookstores offcenter of the City's square, twenty, thirty, or just one.
If they run into each other, she'll take it from there. And if not. Well.
They've spent their lives being alone in one way or another right?
What's another day or two.
Forever.Another day. Or two. ]