Jan. 13th, 2009

thewordofweb: (GIRL: lounge)
The day has been something of a mockery for me. I've spent the majority of it trying to ignore people and tugging on a skirt that seems too short and a sweater that seems too tight and inevitably, I simply end up with my journal in the gazebo of the Homestead, curled up on the bench-swing and writing at length about the day. My feet are bare and I still feel too much like Alice down a rabbit hole.

I doubt that's going to change, at this pace.

I had considered heading to the boat and perhaps holding up in the bed there, where no one could find me, but I owe Joe for his kindness and moreso for his restraint. I can glimpse at his head of hair through the kitchen window and when the sun begins its slow decline in the sky, I pick my way up and head around the front to head into the kitchen and stand behind Joe, tugging lightly at his hair, trying to ignore the fresh smell to him that says he's recently showered. Not to mention I try to ignore the way the dark-blue button down sits on him. "Hey, Lieb," I greet, casual as I can. "You eaten yet?"


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