#drabble&

[sihren-blog1]

I’ve a devil of a habit for being right.

     Mim presses her hands together in front of her stomach, nails biting into the curve of her thumb. She studies the floor for a moment. After another moment, she loosens her grip and signs: < That doesn’t sound like a fun habit to have. >

     Because being right usually means being let down means being hurt means being disappointed. It never means anything good.

[sihren-blog1]

“ I can hide but I can’t run. ”

     Her fingers knit together and her lips thin, eyes lower. At first, she doesn’t understand it - then she thinks about it and then Mim does. Because isn’t that what she’s trying to do? Trying to hide because the only place left to run is a corner?

     She reaches a hand out, hesitates before drawing it back to herself. She thinks of saying something like be brave or fight it but she knows better - knows it’s never that simple.

     The sign is small and simple, held close to her chest like a secret: < I’m here. >

[sihren-blog1]

👐 – hugging them

    She's been standing in the rain for no more than ten minutes when Barney shows up. She's drenched, hair clinging to the sides of her face, shirt to her shoulders and her arms. When Barney asks what she's doing, the answer gets lost somewhere in her mouth.

    She's not sure how to explain it. Mim tries to put it into words, but her hands stutter in the air and finally she grips them tight and to herself. She can't explain it. Can't explain the sense of detachment and how sometimes she'll go outside like this and just stand there, letting the cold sink into her skin until she feels something - anything.

   She looks down, hugging herself tighter. She's trembling underneath the downpour.

   Then the rain stops falling and Barney's wrapped his arms tight around her. He rests his head on top of hers. Mim whimpers, trying to hold herself together, but she can't. She falls apart, not crying, but not trying to pretend she's fine, either.

    Barney pushes the wet hair from her face and walks her inside the coffee shop. He keeps an arm around her the entire time.

[sihren-blog1]

FIVE TIMES SMILED

1.    the first time she sees him, she smiles, small and thin and nervous, with her eyes to the floor - like he’s dangerous. like looking at him might hurt.

2.    the second time, he has a book she knows. she smiles and hides it behind her coffee. she doesn’t think he noticed.

3.    he holds the door open for her. mim meets his gaze for a second - a second is all she can manage - and bites the edge of her bottom lip as she smiles.

4.    when she goes to bed one night after talking with him, she thinks of this: his name is barney and his favorite book is treasure island and something about that makes her smile.

5.    when she walks into the coffee shop after work, she looks for him without meaning to. mim smiles, eyes creasing into it, when their eyes meet. she doesn’t look away this time.

[sihren-blog1]

‘ i’ll be right here when you wake up. ’

    There are dark circles underneath her eyes, from a night spent reading instead of sleeping. Barney’d given her a book and it’d been a good book and she’d been determined to finish it in one go and now Mim’s starting to regret that choice. Her head lolls forward and then snaps back up.

    By the third or fourth time, Barney says something. Mim looks at him, bleary eyed in her exhaustion. She offers a half smile.

    < If I fall asleep, you’ll leave. >

[sihren-blog1]

i think you’re a rockstar.

     Her eyes widen slightly and Mim cards a hand through her hair, looking away. Her cheeks tinge pink. She catches an elbow against the other woman's ribs, the gesture light and affectionate.

     Shaking off loose strands of hair, she Signs: No.

     (Still, a smile lingers on her lips and her nose crinkles into the expression.)

[sihren-blog1]

i’ve got things completely under control.

    Mim definitely has things under control. She has them completely under control. Everything is fine.

    She thinks this, balancing a heavy box filled with a number of breakable porcelain figurines (why are they even selling these when they're a bookstore?)  against the wall, unable to move one way or another. She stares with a mixture of determination and futility.

    Yup.

    This is fine.

    Everything is under control.