Oct 2, 2019
rain’s soaking up her jeans , but it doesn’t look like she cares . sitting on the wet asphalt by the bar , wiping blood off her shoulder with the aid of onion skin - like napkins stolen from the afore mentioned bar — should be a recipe for disaster , and yet she’s barely aware of the gash on her arm . she becomes more so once she feels a stranger’s gaze fixate on it , and then she worries : what’s it she’s going to think , that she’s weak ? that she’s in danger ? that she was stupid ? —— yeah , perhaps . fiona glances at the woman , then back at the napkins in her hands . “ don’t worry ” , she whispers . “ it’s just a scratch ” .
@v-rah sent ? for a starter , accepting .