[ shōyō’s arms slipped from lazarus and his shoulders with a sigh through his nose; that sounded like him. he could find anything, even him in his silence. it was— nice. it was good. the slight delay in his retreat, as well as the sluggishness of it spoke one thing for the sharp: he didn’t want to let go so quickly.
pain when one’s joy was the norm, it looks cold and quiet; it looks like a dark day preparing for a storm, where the sun’s heat and light is blocked. shōyō looked the part, his head now down and mulling over an answer as he kicked pavement with his sneakers. ]
I lost the wallet my sister gave me. I think I’m lost out here. [ he glances down at the scribbled address on the folded paper he wrote; it says YOU ARE HERE. the dream thoughts mesh into his present, cleanly and naturally, while he begins to add: ] I’ve been at . . . Ear Worm.
[ dancing, feeling the opposite of what he was feeling now, which had been the cause of an escalating but low level of corruption— loneliness, loss, so many deaths that he’d only ever see on a news report at six am, happening so far away from him. ]
no subject
pain when one’s joy was the norm, it looks cold and quiet; it looks like a dark day preparing for a storm, where the sun’s heat and light is blocked. shōyō looked the part, his head now down and mulling over an answer as he kicked pavement with his sneakers. ]
I lost the wallet my sister gave me. I think I’m lost out here. [ he glances down at the scribbled address on the folded paper he wrote; it says YOU ARE HERE. the dream thoughts mesh into his present, cleanly and naturally, while he begins to add: ] I’ve been at . . . Ear Worm.
[ dancing, feeling the opposite of what he was feeling now, which had been the cause of an escalating but low level of corruption— loneliness, loss, so many deaths that he’d only ever see on a news report at six am, happening so far away from him. ]