the progress project [3]

4 7

fiona

"good morning, baby," her mom smiles tentatively, setting breakfast on her nightstand. she walks over and opens the curtains, sunlight streaming in through the windows. "i'm so glad you decided to stay with us for a few days."

so you can watch over me as if i might lose my sanity at any second? she wants to retort. "me too."

"how's the cute hunk in the guest bedroom?"

fiona shakes her head, mind trapped on the red-headed, blind— "it isn't like that."

"oh," her mother says, and purses her lips. "i'm sorry."

"it's fine," she replies quickly, throwing the sheets and blankets off of her. "i'm going to get dressed."

nodding, her mom leaves, and fiona stares out of her childhood bedroom at the light snowfall. he should be able to see this. he should be able to sit here on her bed with her and listen to her talk about the snowflakes hitting the ground. he should be here, she thinks.

but he's not.