"I’ve never seen a dead person before."
sentence starters ‣ accepting.
[ † ] — he scratches his hairline.
okay, he wants to tell her. but her tone sounds inviting, or, well, he assumes it is. but hanging around someone who's never seen dead people? what, was she born yesterday? he assumes she is.
“ okay. “ he says. he stares at her hands. big hands for a baby.
“ do you want to? “ he doesn’t want to assume, this time, what it is that she wants.
wait-- babies don’t talk about death. she couldn’t be one. the confusion makes its way to his face, and for a split second he looks human. not that he isn’t, but his demeanour screamed lizard boy. minus the eye-licking. that must explain his divine status, right? it was god’s will that he looked so...out of place.
“ my mom-- i have her foot if you want to see it. “ that was nonchalant.
“ they didn’t want me to keep her whole body, so i did what i had to do. “ very nonchalant.
truthfully, he wanted the hand. but it was easier to cover a missing foot than a hand at the open-casket funeral, where he was the only one who showed up. he was the one who opened the casket, actually. they were right-- it should’ve stayed closed. not only was the smell intimidating, but she looked like a b-movie prop.
she was lovely.
“ are you a baby? “ he’s too curious, too unsure about her state as a human being. he wanted to clear out any false assumptions, and if she was, then it was his duty as something something lead her to the right path something something.
“ i’ve never seen a baby before. “