Status: breathing
Collisione
collision four
They were human.
That was their biggest tragedy. “I don’t care okay?” She closed her eyes and she pressed her fingers against her throbbing temple. The car’s heater wasn’t enough to melt the chill between them. “I want a family one day, Killian. You know that.” She coughed again and it sounded like death’s rattle. “Bake in Italy, Toscana maybe. I simply don’t understand this.” Her hands waved around the car. “Your family is so quiet and cold. I can’t live like that. If we ever have a kid, I want him near a warm family. Not a bunch of-”
“Just stop.”
It stopped.
They days they’d hold hands and agree on whims and demands. The days he’d talk nothings and she’d agree with everything’s. But now, she’d gnash her teeth and look away. Now, he’d hold his tongue and rub his forehead. They just stopped. She would scoff whenever he brought up his family and he’d tire on trying to remember her unending list of siblings. They’d spit and fight over flight tickets and travel costs, all while cursing either their attractive cousin or sleazy uncle.
He sighed. “Still want to get dinner?” This was his war strategy. He was the mime and she was the prima dona. Her shoulders shrugged and she looked out the window. She wore her words like a bit, facially expressing them but staying her silence.
She played with the tips of her hair while he drummed the tips of his fingers. “Olive and chocolate, Antoinette’s sourest tartlet.” She was no poet, but that was their best sonnet. He smiled, because he knew that no matter how many times they would bicker over insignificant things, both their hearts would eventually melt the iceberg between them.
“Drop me off at my house.” She pulled the scarf tighter around her neck. “I want to go home.”
Even if it was only the tip of it.
That was their biggest tragedy. “I don’t care okay?” She closed her eyes and she pressed her fingers against her throbbing temple. The car’s heater wasn’t enough to melt the chill between them. “I want a family one day, Killian. You know that.” She coughed again and it sounded like death’s rattle. “Bake in Italy, Toscana maybe. I simply don’t understand this.” Her hands waved around the car. “Your family is so quiet and cold. I can’t live like that. If we ever have a kid, I want him near a warm family. Not a bunch of-”
“Just stop.”
It stopped.
They days they’d hold hands and agree on whims and demands. The days he’d talk nothings and she’d agree with everything’s. But now, she’d gnash her teeth and look away. Now, he’d hold his tongue and rub his forehead. They just stopped. She would scoff whenever he brought up his family and he’d tire on trying to remember her unending list of siblings. They’d spit and fight over flight tickets and travel costs, all while cursing either their attractive cousin or sleazy uncle.
He sighed. “Still want to get dinner?” This was his war strategy. He was the mime and she was the prima dona. Her shoulders shrugged and she looked out the window. She wore her words like a bit, facially expressing them but staying her silence.
She played with the tips of her hair while he drummed the tips of his fingers. “Olive and chocolate, Antoinette’s sourest tartlet.” She was no poet, but that was their best sonnet. He smiled, because he knew that no matter how many times they would bicker over insignificant things, both their hearts would eventually melt the iceberg between them.
“Drop me off at my house.” She pulled the scarf tighter around her neck. “I want to go home.”
Even if it was only the tip of it.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hello lovelies! ♥ I appreciate all the reccs. This story so far is composed by a bunch of vignettes, but I assure you there's a tiny plot tossed in there. Very small, but still there.I'd love to hear your opinions. Don't be a silent reader~