❝To truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them. That's it. That's all.❞
°.✩┈┈∘*┈🌙┈*∘┈┈✩.°
Darling, you're the one I want
In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams
Oh, you're the one...
Charlotte comes out of her room adjusting her black cardigan over the sleeves plaid button-up cropped knit top, "Today's sunset is at 4:31."
"How do you even know that?" The blonde snaps at her.
Lottie shrugs and sits on the loveseat. Her bag is half full of books on her lap as she makes sure her assignments are ready, "I took a glance at the paper when it arrived."
"I really hate you sometimes." Paris' eyes narrow on her before she physically shakes her anxiety off, "Okay. Then I just have to keep my mind occupied until 4:31." She then takes a seat next to the oldest twins.
"Paris." Calls Rory, lowering her paper.
"What?"
"Tell me again why you're fasting for Ramadan."
"Look, Rory, if you want to crib your articles from the A.P. Wire, that's your business. I, on the other hand, actually give a rat's ass about journalistic integrity. When I write about Ramadan, I experience Ramadan. Are you chewing gum?"
"What? Yes. Why?" She pulls back from her lean-back position, completely taken aback.
"I'd really prefer it if you didn't chew it at me."
"Paris, did you know that not eating can make people kind of snippy?" Lottie snorts, by now Rory should know it doesn't take fasting for Paris to be in a mood.
"Ramadan is about a lot more than just not eating. It calls for total abstinence from food particles passing through the mouth or nose. Your bazooka is passing through my nose."
Lottie thanks all the gods she knows when a knock on the door stops the conversation. "It's unlocked." The sisters exclaim. A moment later Marty walks in carrying a paper sack. "Hey, Marty."
"So, I just bartended this crazy brunch with chocolate fountains and floating ice sculptures, and I snagged us all kinds of hors d'oeuvres." Indicating the three bags he's carrying.
With sarcasm dripping from her tone, "Oh, nice going, bucko."
Marty eyes Paris timidly, "Okay, so, she didn't really mean 'nice going', right? 'Cause there's sort of a devil-eye thing going on."
