𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝.
❝ in which you piece together the fragments of your past...
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"This is some gourmet ass canned food."
"We should load it into the car."
"Can we please stop acting like the owner of the house isn't literally passed out two metres away from us."
"If we wake 'er up she might not let us take it so this is our chance."
"I can't believe she fainted after seeing yer ugly face."
"Shut the fuck up, we literally have the same face."
Literally. What the fuck.
That was the first thought your pounding head generated at the aimlessly loud bickering—that frankly did nothing to help the scorching headache that drilled into every inch of your brain—registering in your ears as you finally came to your senses.
Eyelids heavy, you remained motionless as you slowly pulled yourself out of your routine blackout.
Noticing an unfamiliar scent wafting in the air around you, you took small sniffs, your nose almost scrunching in confusion. The air smelt... fragrant... like freshly cooked rice, alongside what you believed to be chicken and corn soup.
