💗
A MEMORY ABOUT A GOOD DEED THEY DID.
“Well don’t make a big deal of it or anything.” Timorous gaze falls in repeated patterns across the other’s face, soaking in the detail they immediately pick apart – placidity signifies resentment, sideways glance signifies irritability. Slack mouth and low brow signifies CONTEMPT. A particularly biased examination. Mallory reaches down and pushes the item under question farther across the speckled counter. Fluorescent lights bzzzzinng overhead like unimpressed audience members, bored with the patterns of this relationship.
There are no customers, and it’s not due to the time of night, or the sticky warm month, but chance. Jasmine works nights and early mornings mostly, Mallory never sleeps. They come around here mending, or messing things up worse every few nights. There’s usually no other staff around in the little 24/7 convenience store to disapprove of Jasmine’s blue-maned, manic visitor, but, it didn’t always take a disagreeable bystander to bring the wronged girl to kick Mallory back out into the night; conflicts are turbulent at best between the both of them.
“It’s even better than your old one.” Tactless but hopeful, painted nails nudge the still boxed smart phone closer to Jasmine’s side of the counter. Mallory has a temper, and they don’t tend to strike others, but they do tend to destroy prized possessions for a similar reaction; same effect, less damage. More of a chance for forgiveness. “So… you’re actually replacing my old one? – The one you threw?” Specification made by the dark haired girl to stress the reason for exhausted lineaments and a lack of enthusiasm.
“Mhm.” Mallory leans in, elbows on counter with chin perched on top of inked knuckles. Tiny grunt of confirmation sweet and small, self effacing in the pursuit of favor. Watery, intense eyes set on Jasmine’s – the only eyes they’ve met with such adoration and imploration for months; Sincere but fleeting, the story of their life. They need control, almost at any cost, but between affronts and tirades they are struck with the draining terror that what they see in those mesmerizing eyes is what they really deserve. A good deed can’t wipe away the truth, but they hope it can bury it for just a little longer.
“Look – it’s even your favorite color, did you notice?” Apologies aren’t their strong suit, callousness and self congratulatory tones unable to be abandoned for even the time it takes to try to redeem themselves for just the same problematic habits, but, that doesn’t mean they don’t TRY.