The moon barely makes it over the horizon, resting bloated and orange just on the top of the hills. It looks as tired as she feels.
The nights are short here, midsummer stuffed in a too small cabin where she and the man she loves count days, runaway hours between nothing and nowhere. She thinks she still loves him. She says she does when he asks, when he reaches for her desperate for what is lost and can be found for a few moments between her legs, on the tip of her tongue, in the muscle memories of the time before they knew that them together was the kind of fire that burned away everything that was good.
He’d found this place, slipped them up to the nowhere lands of the 49th state and hidden them from the world. He’d carved that quiet life she’d joked about out of nothing. And it’s too quiet. There are no planes overhead to carve the silence up into manageable chunks, no cars to carry her mind away, just him and her and two rooms and nowhere to hide.
The nights are shrunken now to the very smallest shadow and soon she will lose darkness as well as noise. She’s not sure how she will bear the scrutiny of white nights, thin fingers of light creeping through cracks to spotlight the pillow tears she hides. He is not strong enough to see her weakness. She is not brave enough to break.
Already she waits until he leaves on his once monthly supply run, and when the truck passes out of hearing she screams and cries until she is empty and numb. Then she waits for him to return, crushing that part of her that whispers maybe he wont and that maybe alone would be better. She should pray but she can’t find God in the quiet.
ok this is a fail comic. why? because upon finishing up (it’s not completely done haha ;-;) I realized that these aren’t visually funny (darn). But I thought I’d post it anyway 8n8 cause it would be a waste if i didn’t. Damn BGs im eternally bad at them *shakes fist*.