An Offered Kindness (Michayla)

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The world around Michayla stilled as she listened intently to the kindness offered her. Dezmond had all but given her an out. She could take this opportunity to fly the white flag for the sake of her body, to put an end to the war that it had been waging against itself for the past few years. The night before could possibly be her last having to endure the painful, nightly ritual. This could potentially be the last pot of tea she ever brewed. Speaking of such, it was the insistent howling of the now steamed kettle that pulled Mickey out of the dense fog of her thoughts, hurling her back into the here and now. Forcing her eyes to break their line of sight, despite how difficult it was, Michayla reached for an oven mitt and pulled the kettle from the stove, pouring it over the pool of honey that sat at the bottom of either of their glasses.

Placing the teaspoon flat against the saucer, Michayla offered Dezmond the hot beverage before taking her own and stirring the thick, golden honey into the pink of the brew. She watched as the two came together in a harmonious entanglement, beginning as their own separate entities and eventually melting into one another as a union of beautiful, floral flavors. However, Mickey didn't initially partake in the taste. Instead, she found herself pondering his proposal further and what it truly meant for not only herself but the family and legacy she was leaving behind.

After a bit longer, Mickayla brought the cup to her full lips and sipped it slowly, letting the broth sit against her tongue before letting its warmth travel down into her chest. It was when she returned the cup to its designated saucer that she decided to speak. "It feels unfair if I take the latter option, honestly."

Turning her back to the cabinet then, she cradled the china between her fingers as she continued to sip between her musings. "I'm the first human you've made contact with meaning I'm the first you've been able to offer an early release. At least, I assume as much." Lifting her eyes from her cup, their dark, deep depths met the intense gaze of his own. She could see the weariness reflected in his eyes, how the ever-growing tempest that sat behind his lids left his thoughts afloat a sea of uncertainty. This was new territory for both of them.  It was unfair for Michayla to expect him to hold all of the answers based simply on his status. "What about every other person you've ever ushered? I'm sure there were plenty who would've gladly taken you up on that offer, had they ever been given the choice."

A subtle sadness tugged at her features. She could feel the corners of her lips turn upwards in an attempt to reassure him, knowing that the same kindness she offered him there would be combated by an overwhelming sense of grief behind her eyes. "As often as I've laid in bed and cried questioning 'Why me?', I don't think I can bring myself to throw in the towel. Even if I only have a month, a week, hell even a day, it's still time I'm being allowed to live. Any time I give up would be the time my father could've used to see my first professional performance or  to tell my mother he loved her one last time."

Mickey felt a warmth ignite deep in her bones as she watched the way his eyes softened. He had stood by her side for the entirety of her life. He was there in the quiet moments when Mickey had felt absolutely alone in the world, silently watching over her and quietly willing her onward. Reaching forward and placing a hand gently on Dezmond's arm, she offered him a reassuring squeeze before concluding. "Thank you for the kindness you've offered me, Dezmond but I don't think I'm ready. Not quite yet." The intensity of the conversation was quickly broken by the ringing of Michayla's phone. Heaving a sigh and placing her cup down against its saucer, Mickey picked up her phone and felt her lungs tighten as she read the name on the screen. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she slid the phone icon across the screen and placed the smartphone to her ear, "Hi, mom, good morning."

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