Thursday, July 19, 2012
It is the slim and textured stripes of smoky and stony blue, impeccably knotted. He gave up trying to go after her and instead watched as she strode angrily away, out into the fields. The tall grasses whipped at her bluejeans, but she never missed a step. At the rockpile, she started to climb, pushing the long sleeves of his fisherman's knit sweater high above her elbows, stopping only to twist her hair into a knot away from her face. Taming the untameable was a constant struggle for her, for him, for them, and he wondered how long it would be before it all broke apart completely like so much rubble.
Brought to Life by Nance at 10:51 PM