#ozenga

[asnksga]

feel your weight

@ozenga

ONE YEAR AGO, THE ENGAGEMENT

This late at night, the reception is no longer about them and she's thankful for it. Leave it to endless champagne showers for people to pour themselves silly into punch drunk bliss and veer the event gloriously off course, the banquet hall of the palace rendered to nothing but an immodest backdrop to the revelry. 

It’s been easier to tolerate than expected. Then again, anything feels easier to swallow with a little bit of drink in you. Like looking at Ozen as she does now, with less of the residual discomfort, the ever-present mournful ache buried deep in her chest more bearable than it should be. 

“Ozie,” A nickname that still manages to stick after all these years, with enough fondness for him to understand. They’re close to the guard-less backdoors to take the chance. She reaches for his wrist and gives it a small tug. “Let’s leave.” 

[asnksga]

bitters & absolut

@ozenga / @dorjeega

TWO MONTHS AGO, PRE-DOBS

Nothing could’ve prepared her for this: an arrangement too soon, an arrival too late. Sitting across when they’ve always, always sat in a row, not two to one. Heart sinking by the passing second instead of the soaring lift of elation. 

It’s all wrong: the wrong ring, the wrong hand at the small of her back, the weather bright as if this is something worth celebrating. She avoids meeting any eyes, be it from the man on the other side of the table to the man sitting to her right. God, is all she thinks, holding her glass by the stem in complete and utter silence. God help me.