as she sit at her kitchen table, the one she got from her mothers mother. the ugly table that has little stains or scratches, thick legs, and matching chairs. the light wood looks almost fake and the chairs squeak no matter who sits in them. when she shifts because her limbs are falling asleep, the chair cracks noise into the air. it disrupts her thoughts and she looks down at her cup on the ugly table. the steam had stopped drifting into her face an hour ago, the hour she stopped telling herself that she wasn't waiting for anything. she was waiting, and waiting, for him.
two hours ago:
the steam was warm on her face as she leaned her chin on one hand and her elbow on the ugly table. she had been looking out the window for five hours, this time when the clock rang out what hour it was she has decided something. fro all of the five hours she had been waiting, it had been raining, harder and then softer.
[ not done!!!]
 Never Ask Dante · Fri Jun 20, 2008 @ 08:35pm · 3 Comments |
