[ He doesn't know what's caused her to ask that question but the sense of it, the shape of that query, of that fear, is too familiar. So he pulls his arm out from beneath his head and instead reaches for the hand of the arm she's laying on. This requires contact and closeness, or maybe he just wants those things for himself.
Maybe it doesn't matter which of those is true. ]
I try not to. I tell myself that there are few things that work that way. But it's there, a persistent idea, like the knowledge that I've ruined most everything I've ever cared for, so why would anything else be different?
no subject
[ He doesn't know what's caused her to ask that question but the sense of it, the shape of that query, of that fear, is too familiar. So he pulls his arm out from beneath his head and instead reaches for the hand of the arm she's laying on. This requires contact and closeness, or maybe he just wants those things for himself.
Maybe it doesn't matter which of those is true. ]
I try not to. I tell myself that there are few things that work that way. But it's there, a persistent idea, like the knowledge that I've ruined most everything I've ever cared for, so why would anything else be different?