ACT I ── TIME: 4:23 PM. LOCATION: CURBSIDE OUTSIDE OF HEADQUARTERS. DISPOSITION: DISQUIETED, APPREHENSIVE, CONTEMPLATIVE. ACT II ── REGARDING: NON - VERBAL PROMPTS. STATUS: ACCEPTING. ( ❛ company . silently sit with my muse to comfort them. )
the irony of divinity is that it does not differentiate between the holy and unholy. and as she sits on the cold curbside, knees pulled towards her heaving chest, she can hear the faint bells of a church nearby. it’s almost like the gospel taunts her. all yasemin requires is a minute; a clear, cloudless minute devoid of all focus and use of thought. but what she’s learned a long time ago was that it was near impossible to turn her brain off. her gaze is level, drifting across the street as few cars whiz by every so often and when someone’s presence is gently made apparent in joining her side, she doesn’t glance up. not at first, anyway. she knows it’s @cohler, can feel it in the hollow of her bones.
instead, she keeps her gaze steady and allows convergence upon the steady intake of breath. in and out, in and out. the depth of the world and all of humanity is a knowledgeable artefact ── there’s right and wrong, evil and good. this, she knew. but it didn’t make it any easier. even after years of exposure. ‟ sorry, i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in soon, promise. ” yasemin breaks the silence first, her cheek pressed to her knee as she glances sideward at him.