Summary: It’s not entirely self-centered to seek comfort for yourself if you’re also checking up on someone else.
It was a thought that only had just now crossed her mind as Kimberly slid her fingers under the small crack between window and sill as she eased said window up. There was a fine line between breaking and entering and checking up on someone she cared about. Breaking and entering was more something along the lines of what a thief would do. Some random stranger would obviously cause harm. She wouldn’t.
Although, scaling the side of Trini’s house to the attic and quietly slipping inside of her room was, in fact, probably pretty illegal.
Considering that there had been no forewarning.
And now that she was inside of the room, plaster swept up into a corner, gaping holes staring back at her, she realized this was probably a bad way of checking up on someone in the middle of the night just because she couldn’t sleep.
The last time somebody had done this, it had been Rita.
That was only a week ago.
Trini still had the bruises on her neck.
Too late now, to rethink her decision.
Both feet were firmly planted on the floor.
It was kind of selfish, though, to barge into someone’s room with the pretense to check up on them.
okay, backstory: she met this man at the park. told her about his marriage troubles and asked for her number in case he ever needs someone to talk to in the future. he texts her about a promotion. she doesn’t have a job. 1 + 1 = making up lies and excuses to get into her pants.
what will happen next? stick around for next episode of the hit drama men are garbage to find out.
Raining. Raining again. When it not raining these days?
When was the last time the seasons was right around here? Rain in the wet, sun
in the dry, fruits when they supposed to bear, flowers when they getting ready
but not these days. No, not these days.
These days is lucky you lucky to go out and have the
weather behave itself. Go out in the morning, bright sun, hot, baking sun
thiefing the energy from your bones and by evening the rain does come. Catch
yourself running through it, trying to get home before it really start to fall,
bucket a drop and you end up wet to the skin and shaking from cold.
Catch yourself hiding under somebody roof, hiding under a
stall tarpaulin and waiting it out, waiting, waiting, waiting for some little
break in the water washing out this whole damn city. Wait for a chance to leave
without getting soak to your skin and never get one because this rain don’t
care about you and your little human life. This rain send from the Precursors
themselves to wash the streets clean, of the filth or the sin, is anybody
Then you make it home, you finally get into your house,
shivering and shaking cause your bones feel like they make from ice and you
breathe in more water than air in the run here. But you’re home, home where it warm
and you can dry yourself and eat something before you have to sleep. Don’t have
nothing worthwhile to do in this damn city no more but life is life and it does
go on, with or without you.
The guards will still patrol up and down with the guns
you know could kill a man so so easy. They probably out right now, up and down
in this rain, in that heavy armour and reporting to each other. The Underground
will keep fighting, on and on and on into the earliest hours of the morning and
no one knows if it will ever be worth it. They could lose, they could win, and
what it going and matter when the Metal Heads finally break through? What any
of it go matter when the whole city end up dead?
The rain will still fall and wash way all of the blood.
The rain will still fall out of season and drown this whole damn world.