any normal person would have simply found whole ordeal unsettling, would have turned the moment flashlight seared their vision and ran until their legs gave out. but ramona was far from anything resembling what it meant to be normal. after all, she’d been lingering in a cemetery at the dead of night — a lone raven calling from a barren branch and the moon casting its pale glow washing frame completely. she found a strange comfort among rows of tombstones, perhaps because some part of her longed for that same quiet release, a reprieve from weight family had placed upon lithe shoulders. maybe that was exactly why dawson, whose name she keeps tucked in the back of her mind, intrigued her so much. groundskeeper of sole place she longed for most… had to be a reason someone like her existed in such a place townsfolk only ever whispered about, something buried six feet under that she would be willing to dig up just to understand her better. ❛ you're telling me you're chasing other pretty girls around this place with a weed whacker? ❜ she takes one step onto narrow staircase leading up to dusty porch, floorboard creaking under her weight as she turns to face brunette, now eye to eye with her. sepias dropping to unlit cigarette resting between her full lips, beating vessel stuttering at their closeness. ❛ you're making me jealous now. ❜ mirrors her tone, low and intimate, gaze flickering from warm hues to soft brims as her hand cups around the cigarette. spark catches after a few flicks of lighter, tip flaring to life in a steady glow. she wasn’t sure what stirred her jealousy more — the fabricated stories they easily spin together for their own entertainment of her being in company of others just like this, or cigarette resting between her lips, a place she found herself wondering what it would be like to take instead. ❛ you live here alone, dawson? ❜ frame turns then to climb quick steps, moving toward wooden porch swing that sways gently in midnight breeze. she curls up at one end, tucking herself in and waiting for brunette to join her, ready to set them into a soft, easy sway. ❛ must be nice having the whole place to yourself, no one to bother you — except for lonely pretty girls. ❜ beam claims petals now, lesser lip caught between pearly whites at their shared joke — small and fleeting, but something that belongs only to them now. ❛ i wish i had something like this of my own, something to take me and hide me away from everyone i know, my parents. i can see this place from where i live up the hill… always wondered who lived here, if anyone. ❜ and who would’ve thought someone her age, someone as pretty as her, lived in dwelling her mother had only ever spoken ill of. ❛ can i? ❜ she holds her hand out, fingers silently asking for the cigarette. didnt care for another smoke, no, was only a quiet excuse to learn how it would feel to taste where her lips had been.
