aquamarine, chalcedony
aquamarine: where my muse feels most calm/relaxed
his flat, a rainy day, sprawled all over the couch in jeans that fit just right, broken in enough to be comfortable but not so that they’re falling to pieces, a welcome break from his suits. isla is colouring on the table beside him, singing loudly one of her silly songs — the tune is real, but all the words are just strung together in her head, guiding her marker held tightly in her chubby fist. he hears anamaria padding across the floor in her room upstairs, and he’s not sure what she’s doing but she’s close and safe and what more could he ask for? ciorbă is simmering on the stove and it smells like home.
chalcedony: the saddest my muse has ever been
one might think it’d be his divorce, but it isn’t.
it’s a wake, and nick hasn’t had his heart break like this since his mother died when he was 18, but at least he saw that one coming. he stood outside the funeral home, until jack’s eldest daughter saw him, standing in the rain, feeling like a child playing dress up in a suit jack had tailored, that just didn’t feel like it was meant for him, not anymore. “you’re meant to be here as much as we are, nicky,” she said. he offered her a sad smile, and followed her back inside.
he owed jack everything.
jack was family. and jack was dead.
