'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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♱
'I, too, have been asked why I'm always grieving, have been told to shed the red lipstick and haltered dresses, to stop being so fucking weird around dinner guests. Like you, I've always felt far from God, but if I believe in anything, I believe in wellness. I take my kill-me pills like a good girl, drawing strength from you when they make me sick and flatten my voice and my sex and my once-liberated eyes. Even my womanness is a half-thing, as you well know what they say about pills and stillbirths, pills and defects, pills and hormones, and poisoned breast milk'
Hera brought her fingers to her lips, taking a cautious bite from the cherry atop her milkshake as she sunk back in the magenta booth, inching her foot closer to her date's — something she did as a subconscious move of affection.
The walls were painted a glittering black that gave a stark contrast to the Hollywood lightbulbs, casting a glow similar to what you would expect in a cinema. Hera and her date — whose face, for some reason or another, she couldn't quite make out — were sat at the very back, their figures obscured from view by the silver ice cream parlour opposite the room. Overall, it was a good ambience; an intimate, rose-tinted mood brought about by the pink strip lights lining every possible surface to the restaurant — if you could call it that.
Why her date's face was blurred to her eyes, Hera found herself not caring as she was having so much fun. She couldn't ever recall feeling like this... Part of her was cautious — and not just because she was trying not to choke on her desert — perhaps the reason her mind wouldn't let her see this person's face was that everything would be different once she did...
Hera wished nothing more than to lean closer and let herself be entirely captivated by whoever this was — she was usually quite assured of her personality, so finding someone that seemed a complete parallel of her was an odd phenomenon to wrap her head around.
This was sort of her first date. Hera couldn't remember a lot of her 'firsts', but the feelings surrounding such events weren't forgotten.
