|This is extremely old, but I'm resistant to change, so it is still here.|
FFM 31: Greater Good"I'm an agent of peace," he said, wincing as she fit the last piece into place. He tested his new hand, opening and closing it, turning it over. It was cold.FFM 31: Greater Good by ~Avatarded
"And yet you were at war." She smiled at him in amusement.
"Sometimes that is what the greater good calls for."
"Right," she said. "Anyway, the arm should work just like your old one."
His smile lingered.
"Please," she said, "stop."
He did. He stilled, lips hovering above her collarbone.
He pulled away to look at her. The heat of their intimacy was lost immediately. Her cheeks were red and her breathing deep, but her eyes were clear.
"You're going t
FFM 30: WarmthThe biscuit was warm in her hands. Its scent carried the weight of memories; it smelled like early mornings and happiness, glowing smiles and buoyant laughter. Family, wholeness, a full belly, and saturday morning cartoons. The biscuit smelled like the past, idyllic and very far away.FFM 30: Warmth by ~Avatarded
The orphan took a bite and started to cry.
FFM 29: PlaygroundDavid lay on the ground, blood seeping into the light-colored wood chips. His mother hovered above him in hysterics, wanting to touch him, but too afraid, too afraid. Her hands fluttered around his hair, his shoulders. Moth wings around a flame.FFM 29: Playground by ~Avatarded
It burned, too hot.
The swing swayed, agitated, nervous at the loss of its occupant. A circle of children gathered around the scene, their mothers trying to shield their eyes.
The echo of ambulance sirens soaked into the grass, the trees, the air of the park. It remained even as the chips were replaced and the stains faded away.
FFM 28: ReactionThe house has been reduced to a pile of rubble. He steams, shouts, pulls at his hair. How dare they, he seethes. Look what they've done!FFM 28: Reaction by ~Avatarded
His words are carried away by the wind. Smoke rising from the ruin indicates its direction.
What's the point of being angry? she asks tiredly. Everything about her is exhausted. She sinks to her knees, the broken concrete scraping against her skin.
Is it wrong? he shouts. Don't I have reason?
She feels it in her bones.
What are you going to do?
He has no response, so he turns away, stomps, and curses.
|MAKES NO SENSE.|