#kenna graff

[ottobuch]

for: @kennagraff​ location: kenna’s place

“Time to get up,” Otto whispered against Kenna’s neck. The words were blurred by sleep, but he’d already reached over to silence his alarm twice, and there was a whole day ahead of them. His nose buried in her hair for a moment, closing his eyes. She smelled of her perfume, it clung to the golden locks from whatever she had been doing earlier– it was warm and comforting: he liked how he knew her in the evening, how the day wore away and left its mark, becoming part of her presence. Another lazy beat passed and he stretched, wrapping his arms around her to give her a squeeze before rolling to one side of the bed, inching closer to getting out. “Want some coffee?” He liked these moments, he considered them one of his rituals. There was an easiness to it; the nights that she didn’t send him away became mornings that belonged to them, the early hours before everyone else rose were something sacred. Otto’s voice was crushed glass, almost powdered with sleep. “I’ll make it."

[bambi-norcross]

location: kenna’s house

for: @kennagraff

Snow was falling in thick, fattened flakes— it clung to hats and hairs and perched on the ends of eyelashes when one sat still just long enough. Bambi walked through the empty streets, head ducked, each exhale a cartoon’s rendition of exertion, a little puff that hung in the cold air before dissolving. There was a stillness, an eerie quiet that can only be heard at this time of year— when the snow, coating all visible and exposed surfaces, dampened the sound. She felt like maybe she was the last girl alive, in this snow globe world, no people or creatures to call out to, pressing tracks into the freshly fallen white sheet, a two-stepped trail that none would follow. It pulled her into that state of melancholic dreaminess, and by the time she knocked on the door to the shared house in which Kenna resided, her eyes had gone sallow, sad and dull. When the door was pulled open, she managed a smile, pulling a bottle of wine from the depths of her tote bag. “Am I late?”