〈⠀𝙹𝙰𝚂𝙿𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙻𝙴 + 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽⠀〉⠀ .⠀.⠀. ⠀ 𝙸𝙽𝚃. : 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚂, 𝙵𝚄𝚉𝚉𝚈 𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆. 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽’𝚂 𝚃𝚈𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝙶𝚁𝙸𝙿 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙴𝙻 𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃; 𝙼𝙸𝙳𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙾𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝚂𝙾 𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙸𝚃 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚁𝙴𝚅𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚁. “𝙸 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙱𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙼𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝚂.”
❛❛ very funny, jasper. ❜❜ it’s the 70s. aIice is driving a cadiIIac seviIIe down a winding mountain road ––––––––––––––– going way too fast. car radio crackling, nylon against creaking leather. thick kajal marks the spot ––––––––––––––– no crosses, but bows and dots and little lines ; eyes impossibly larger and uncannily bright. amber, perfectly rounded, washed smooth by decades of stagnancy in a wild riverbed.
𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙸𝙽 𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙷 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙻𝚈 ; 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙳𝚈𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙰𝚃𝚂 𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙸 𝚂𝙺𝙸𝚁𝚃𝚂 ––––––––––––––– 𝚆𝙰𝚇𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝙷𝙰𝚂𝙸𝚂𝙴 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙴𝚂 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙽, 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃.
he who receives them has chosen a more muted costume for himself ––––––––––––––– denim and modest faux satin which gently flaps in a breeze from the cracked window. as aIice looks over at him instead of the road, she is once again struck by his understated beauty, inundated with swelling adoration. his or her own, it can’t be said ––––––––––––––– it’s all running together ; combining and mingling and mixing. indistinguishable, boarders bleeding into one another . . . it’s impossible to tell where her affection ends and his begins. this angel captured in the passenger seat, plucked from heaven and greedily hoarded ; deep onyx eyes honeyed with the promise of devotion. alice smiles, wicked and unrestrained, red smears sullying sharp canines.
❛❛ 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙾 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙽 ? ❜❜
