May. 2nd, 2009

thewordofweb: (not so pleased)
The obituary had been burning a hole in my pocket for weeks now. The couple of them. I'd been keeping them from Joe, tucked away in secret places he would never look, thinking I would tell him everything over dinner one night, some throwaway mention as I brushed my thumb against his palm, a soft ' about our future, I may not be in it?' That's not going to happen. First came that fucking uniform and then Joe got his brain near-stolen.

So I've left it. I left it amidst the piles of his homework and I went to find Blair to try and find some absolution over my being such a coward. Now, I have to go back. It's been hours and if he hasn't found it, then I'm in trouble from being gone during dinner. If he has found it, well, I don't know what to expect, but I don't think it's going to be good.

I lean my head on the door for what feels like eternity. It's only five minutes. I count quietly, one-one-thousand...

This is going to take as much bravery as any jump and I push the door open and close it behind myself, just standing there and waiting to see what's going to happen.
thewordofweb: (this constant change: by ?)
There are very few things that I like about being a woman. My back aches, Joe calls me all manner of nicknames, and I feel awkward when I catch Skinny and Grant eyeing my rack. Still, the one thing I do like is the leverage I know have over the boys, and specifically, over my one. I'm lucky enough to know a very fine woman and after a year's time, we've traded back and forth on favors that I've lost count of where we stand.

Still, she's the expert. Joe's continued attendance at the Catscratch proves it. I hurry and hustle, ceasing my jog when it starts to hurt and slow down to approach Helen at the club. "Helen?" I greet with a demure smile. "Hi. Got an hour?"


thewordofweb: (Default)

May 2014

1112 1314151617

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 11:15 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios