subtle circles. arin&miram
— @miramfmd
it was summer. the birds harmonized a cheerful melody, all lined up on a branch like a little choir. there were clouds, providing few minutes of shade from the mean sunlight. the trees were green, leaves rustling gently along the gentle breeze.
then, out of fucking nowhere, a storm poured.
arin was running late (not surprising, but after quite a time of not meeting with this person, the impulse to push through strengthened) and in no time, she looked like a tiny wet chick waddling through a hurricane. a poor thing spilled probably three bucketfuls of water. thinking she was pranked wasn’t far fetched.
( now, you wore white to beat the heat. say hello to your bra now. )
unaware of the little show for public’s eyes, everyone’s perverted eyes specifically, arin went on. bringing an umbrella is a must, despite the summer. a man stared with a red face, earning a glare from his girlfriend. a woman furrowed her brows, covered the eyes of her five year old son. this was just a summer storm. it would go away soon. if it did go away, though, arin would assume the gods were merciless. all the effort, getting wet, only to realize she should’ve rested a few minutes to let the skies calm. in the cafe, the place arin suggested to meet, the cold strummed a shivering sigh from her.
“hey!” arin didn’t sit just yet. instead, she stood beside miram. hair soaked, leaving droplets of wet around her, she was everything but presentable.
( and still unaware of her black bra pretty much the only thing covering her. and boy, were they a feast to look at. )
“i’m sorry i was late. the storm—it came out of nowhere! i didn’t want to wait for it. you might leave me, you know.”
