@metamorphosd : ‘ you know how the stories go. interesting things happen only to pretty girls. ‘
THE HEAT OF THE SUMMER SUN BEAT AGAINST THE BACK OF HER NECK, and she spared a glance out the window at the stream of locals passing by. the city that never sleeps produced a population riddled with under eye bags, designer bags, and an excessive number of garbage bags -- all in the same half mile radius. a classic american patriot would puff their chest in pride of the progress they’ve made in their society, but bulbbul saw past the thinly veiled capitalism and saw the rotting core of the big apple. not so different from hundreds of years ago. in the pseudo-caste system of new york, Peach Salinger was a quintessential new yorker who would never be seen caught dead with eye bags, even after the ordeal she had faced.
she settled her coffee cup, rim stained red with lipstick, down with a laugh. ❝ interesting ? ❞ bulbbul leaned forward on her elbow with chin propped up in her palm and steadied her gaze on the woman across her. ❝ would you consider what happened to you interesting ? ❞ there’s a stubborn challenge glinting behind dark eyes, and for a moment she fixes her with a curious stare before resting back in her chair. the air of nonchalance returns, as quickly as it had faded, and her fingers work on absentmindedly braiding the ends of her hair. ❝ i’ve heard the rumours, but people are liars, so i want to hear it from you. what exactly happened to you, Peach ? ❞
