her patience and understanding. her virtue of love that fuses and discombobulates the togetherness of a forbidden force of nature and reality she yearns. two bodies, one soul ridden with dire consequences of togetherness; but still they seek to make...
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"A lot is happening v-very quickly, v-very fucking fast and it's overwhelming me Maurice!"
"Cry me a fucking river Florence," Dropping the last box in the crowded confinement to the trunk, the sailor mouth of Maurice D'Amico fires rapidly— astoundingly amplified and attention snatching that lures the audible gasp and expeditious motherly instincts of Florencía Taveres resounding forcefully into the openness of the parking lot at the blood curdling cry that bellows into the busyness of February third's bustling afternoon. The mother flees the embrace of her own mushrooming emotions, immediately tending to the emotional torrent of the thirty year old man having guiltily caught the small hand of his curious little girl beneath the firm slam of the trunk closed at the bidding of his strength against the trunk of the loaded Acura TLX with attention fixed on the mother of his child whose anxieties were falling heavily upon his shoulders. "Fuck! I'm so sorry baby girl.." His chest tight, heart breaking at the bright red features of his freshly aged three year old who sobs uncontrollably in the swaying hold of her nurturing mother who brings the bleeding hand of her toddler into her concerned peripheral, "I ain't know she was there— Daddy's so sorry pretty girl, I'm so sorry—" Distraught were the heartfelt apologies that fled his lips, wanting to tend to the uncontrollable hysterics of his daughter who squeals a gut-wrenching 'no dada!' through her inconsolable emotions. And his heart broke, his features falling from the contortion of their scared, and apologetic expression to a face of guilt, hurt, and repentant despair having hurt his little girl and even more so on her third birthday. Maurice swallows down hard, mind, body, and soul ensued with a wave of emotions and sensations that watches shamefully the way his little girl gasps for air through her rampant tears of pain and hurt that only seem to intensify at the sight of the flooding of her nails with blood. His guilt was eating him alive, from the inside out, like a flesh eating disease picking at his resilience as Florence does what she does best in lulling the hysterical sobs and tears of her daughter.
Florence saunters by Maurice swiftly, passing by him and forsaking a gentle rubbing of his back soothingly on her mission towards her father and grandmother with the distraught and unintentionally injured toddler, "Papi, ¿puedo tener una bolsa de hielo y curitas, por favor? Sus dedos están sangrando." The calmness in her dauntingly accented voice run like bells in his ears, her motherly nature having come natural to her and flowing from her, spilling from her pores and contaminating her voice with a comforting touch of emotion and nurture that he hadn't heard ever before. Her quickness was plausible, admirable, and he couldn't help but adorn through his guilt and shame the way she'd come to the rescue with icing the small hand of her baby girl, her voice a sweet melody of love and compassion as she tried her best to clean the blood from the hand of her little girl who uses all her might and emotional invigoration to pull from the hands and the painful sting of the alcohol pad. She was doing so well, better than he'd ever or would do in a situation such as this, how calm and content she was in tending to their baby girl and how patient she was in calming her intense emotions that diffuse from one hundred to a tolerable fifty that was still her little whimpers and sniffles from the thick haze of her tears and blotchy face asking, "Yu—Yuv— Yuv boo-boo ma— mama?" Pacifier captured within the suction of her mouth that hiccups as a result to her previous hyperventilation, that lures the eyes of her mother who caresses softly her buoyant curls that fall beautifully down her back from her half up-half down hairstyle.
