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╰┈➤❝ [i could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; i would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. i would know him in death, at the end of the world.] ❞ ╰┈➤ madeline miller
HER HEELS CLICKED AGAINST THE MARBLE TILE. A clipboard was secured against her chest, her eyes glued to it. A quiet song played over the radio, muffled by the television in the corner. She hummed along, sending smiles to the people she passed. To her left was a long table with a woman sat behind it. Her job primarily consisted of handing out food to the residents and keep stock on their inventory. But most of the time, the woman just fought to stay awake. It elicited a giggle from her and the children in the building. They'd loved to play harmless pranks on the poor woman. From shaving cream in the hand to trying to subliminally tell her to give them more candy the following day, the kids always had fun when the woman failed to stay awake.
Tiny hands grabbed at her arms, yanking her away from her spot by the table. The children giggled as they dragged her over to a small corner of the large room. "Abby wants to draw you!" One of the girls exclaimed, pointing to the girl sitting on the floor, surrounded by crayons. With a chuckle, she sat down on the floor, her legs crossed. "Hold still!" Another girl exclaimed as the artist began drawing on the blank sheet of paper. She did her best to hold still for the girl, her eyes occasionally darting to the drawing. A smile began to spread on her lips. In this moment, she felt more happy than she ever had before. The children here liked her, liked spending time with her or listening to her stories about the Batman. They liked her jokes and that she didn't scold them when they were too rowdy or played pranks on others. Bruce told her that he thought she'd make a good mother, but her mind couldn't help to drift back to her own mother and the rage that had consumed her since her own pregnancy.
"Miss Dumont?" An older woman in a loose purple dress stepped forward, an anxious look on her worn features. The children surrounding her groaned as Siobhan pushed herself off of the floor, promising to return. The woman's arm looped around Siobhan's, pulling her away from the children, away from the rest of the people in the main room. "I hesitated on bringing this up - I know he's sick and all - but I really think that someone needs to talk to Arthur in the main hall. We've gotten multiple complaints of him making others uncomfortable. Like I said, I know he's got his... condition, but still."
Siobhan slowly nodded. "I'll go talk to Arthur, okay?" Her hand squeezed the woman's shoulder before parting ways with her. "I'll be right back." She told the children in the corner, smiling at their protests.
Making her way down the long hallway, she entered one of the bedrooms. Two beds sat inside on opposite ends of the large room. Her eyes surveyed the room, biting her bottom lip at the slight mess. On the bed furthest from the door sat a skinny man, writing slowly in his notebook. Pushing a piece of hair behind her ear, she gently knocked on the door. His head whipped around, his eyes taking in her presence. "Hey, Artie. What's up?" Her arms crossed over her chest as she made her way deeper into the room.
