TAKE ME AWAY
she’s never asked to be extraordinary. but often times having a choice in asking is a privilege in itself. and though esther had been blessed with the likes of a (formerly) happy, healthy family, she had never had the privilege in being able to choose. if anything, her childhood revolved around decisions driven purely by what her mother wanted—ballet lessons? sure. violin? why not? neatly buttoned blouses and polished mary janes? alright—of course that’s what being the youngest meant, young pliable youth, pitiful youth.
it’s no wonder she cracked under mother’s hopes and expectations.
but whether her mother had wished it or not—this was the kind of extraordinary she wound up as. not a ballet prodigy (despite sprained ankles and broken toes), not a violinist (despite calloused fingers and tendon pain), not even a wife candidate to eligible bachelors (oh, she never stood a chance for that one)—rather, delicate little (she’d snort, no matter how hard her mother tried to push it—she’s never been delicate) esther now is nothing but a freak with the capability of moving things with her mind.
and mother? well, mother is nowhere to be seen now isn’t she.
funny how things turn out, huh?
“hey.” accent heavy, esther nearly cringes from the thickness of mother tongue seeping through as she plops herself down beside the wayward boy—wayward, because she doesn’t trust eyes she can’t see. god only knows what he’s focusing on when they’re speaking. “glasses—” she shifts, tugging the frame down the bridge of his nose slightly with her power.
“spill. do i look extra good in red or what?”
@misotakeme
