with every small disaster | c&j 88th blitz
Sept 15, 2021 12:54:50 GMT -5
Post by ᴥ on Sept 15, 2021 12:54:50 GMT -5
CEDRIC SPENCE
Every morning is heavier than the last. Dawn is a wash of brutal pastels, pink cut with purple with orange with red - the promise of a silent storm. Something shifted when I went to the Capitol. A buried treasure unearthed by clumsy hands and a rusty shovel. I shouldn't be grateful for that, but I'm pretty sure I am. Relief bubbles up my throat like that fancy sparkling water I can't get enough of. Pictures aren't as pretty when they're perfect.
So I'm just waiting for something to break. So I'm just praying something will finally break. "Here's the plan." I prop my chin up on cupped palms, grateful for the plush blanket that separates my skin from the hard tile of the Justice's kitchen floor. This place is too big to feel like home, but I'm more used to the way it feels like it's swallowing me up.
A blueprint sits in front of me, a mess of color coded lines and incomprehensible script. The letters are staggered and uneven, thoughts moving faster than the fingers desperately attempting to transcribe them. "Sage always goes to the park after school-" I circle the crude drawing of a slide in the top right-hand corner, pencil trailing then to the middle of the page where I've drawn a handful of tiny spiders, "while she's talking to her friends I can-"
"Hey, are you even listening?" I push myself into a sitting position, scowling up at where Justice leans against the counter. "The whole point of this sleepover was to strategize!" The prank war waging between my sister and I is an excellent excuse to spend time with the only friend I've ever made - but that's one of those truths you're not supposed to admit. My family has a lot of those.
"You're far away again."
So I'm just waiting for something to break. So I'm just praying something will finally break. "Here's the plan." I prop my chin up on cupped palms, grateful for the plush blanket that separates my skin from the hard tile of the Justice's kitchen floor. This place is too big to feel like home, but I'm more used to the way it feels like it's swallowing me up.
A blueprint sits in front of me, a mess of color coded lines and incomprehensible script. The letters are staggered and uneven, thoughts moving faster than the fingers desperately attempting to transcribe them. "Sage always goes to the park after school-" I circle the crude drawing of a slide in the top right-hand corner, pencil trailing then to the middle of the page where I've drawn a handful of tiny spiders, "while she's talking to her friends I can-"
"Hey, are you even listening?" I push myself into a sitting position, scowling up at where Justice leans against the counter. "The whole point of this sleepover was to strategize!" The prank war waging between my sister and I is an excellent excuse to spend time with the only friend I've ever made - but that's one of those truths you're not supposed to admit. My family has a lot of those.
"You're far away again."
