First, she finishes her water. Leans over to place it back on the bedside table. A droplet trickles down the outside of the glass and seeps into the grain of the wood. Her eyes land on her sunglasses, and for the briefest of moments her fingers twitch toward them.
Sitting back (sunglasses-less, throat less dry), she says, "Sometimes, I think you forget what I am."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-10-19 07:53 am (UTC)Sitting back (sunglasses-less, throat less dry), she says, "Sometimes, I think you forget what I am."