the siren † john seed

36

•

Liquorice sat on a roof.

It has been a while since she ventured out to sit on one, everything occupying her and distracting her from climbing onto it.

Today was a gloomy day. The once blue skies replaced with dark, grumbling clouds, threatening the world beneath it with rain.

Liquorice sat alone, thinking about anything and everything. John was home and Liquorice could hear a melody playing on a radio to indicate he was still there. The only reason she was left alone was that she had told him that she was dismissing herself to the bath.

Liquorice didn't feel like hopping in the bath. She didn't feel like talking to someone either, so she retired to the familiar place she knew she could gather her thoughts alone.

Liquorice leans back to rest on her extended arms holding onto the grainy and sand-papered textures of the roof tiles. She watches the guards in the yard prepare for a storm, gathering the white bible-like book under a tarp to protect it from any damage the rain can bring it.

She counts the amount of people idly walking around, a gun resting either in their hands rested to the side of them or leaning against their shoulders. Eleven. Eleven people with big, scary guns drenched in black clothes.

Liquorice watches them interact with each other, usually one cracking a joke and the two people gathering into a laugh.

Liquorice fixes her mind on it. She somehow managed to think of them as ruthless, cold and dead-serious people. The laughing and smiling breaking this label.

"You okay, Lana?"

Liquorice peeks over the ledge, her long hair hanging around her face.

So much for being alone.

"J," Liquorice breathes out. Liquorice offers her hand down to the man. "I'm fine."

Liquorice helps him onto the roof. When he's situated beside her, she doesn't let go of his hand.

"Have you ever flew out of the county?"Asks Liquorice. She wraps two of her small hands around his larger hands, locking his hand in between hers.

"I think," John pauses, thinking about his journeys in the plane. "I have. Why are you asking this, Lana?"

Liquorice pulls his hand to her face, feeling his warm flesh against her cheek. She looks at him through batted eyelashes.

John shakes his head. "I recognize that look." He pulls his hand away from her. "I do not understand. Are you unhappy here, Liquorice?"

Liquorice's eyes widen. She quickly grabs his hand again. She shakes her head quickly, causing a slight headache to rise to her head. "I'm very happy here. I love everything about this place."

Liquorice lays on the rough sandpaper-textured roof tiles. John watches her adjust herself.

"I was just thinking about her," Liquorice smiles, personifying the plane as he does. "I was just wondering her mileage. How far she can do a zoom-zoom."

"Zoom-zoom," he repeats, amused with her choice in words.

He admires Liquorice. He drags his eyes from her face down to her long legs, admiring every inch of her.