several more hours to wait,
so dark around me
She sits against the wall, eyes taking in a sentence in one book before flitting to another. Their white pages are scattered all around her, and people that pass walk around her circle, annoyed, but she's too stressed to notice.
If for every murder, there must be retaliation, the killings would never end.
No one mentioned such things; it was not a rule, but was considered rude to call attention to things that were unsettling or different about individuals.
Play the man, Master Ridley; we shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.
Someone hits his pens against the table, shooting out a loud beat. Her ear twitches.
It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.
Is all that we see or seem a dream within a dream?
A woman coughs, very delicately. Tammy can almost hear it vibrate through her lungs.
"Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."
Suddenly, for no reason other than that she has none, she looks up. Her eyes land on the guy, sitting across the room. He's staring straight at her. She looks back down.
"They's a time of change, an' when that comes, dyin' is a piece of all dyin', and bearin' is a piece of all bearin', an' bearin' an' dyin' is two pieces of the same thing. An' then things ain't so lonely anymore. An' then a hurt don't hurt so bad."
She reaches for her pencil, but her fingers grasp at air. She turns her papers over, and flips the books' covers, and digs through her pencil case. She bites her lip.
"Try your hair," she hears, and she looks up. The guy stares down at her, unsmiling, before pointing at her hair. He's wearing a hoodie that says Three Days Grace. Slowly, confused, she reaches behind her. Her fingers curl around her pencil, and her mouth drops open in surprise.
"Thanks," she starts to murmur, but he's already walking away.
She moves to write the quote down in her notebook then, reading it again, she realises the words that spill from her pencil are anything but.
Try your hair.
She wonders how long he's been watching her. She doesn't mind, funnily.
YOU ARE READING
In the Art of Falling
Romance"I got your message," he says. She nods, falling into those eyes. Those eyes... "You came back." "Yeah, I did," she whispers, "And I'm not leaving." When they kiss, everyone else can't help but look on and wish they had what they have. The song lyri...
