@vividtulips sent: “I keep asking myself “why isn’t the sun bright anymore” but then I remember you’re not in my life anymore and realize it’s just my own eyes.” / from ann
How fast Anne’s gaze plummets to the ground at that singular confession ------ quite gracelessly, she is afraid; the perfect likeness of a broken-winged bird crashing beneath the weight, beneath the dread, beneath the pervasive gravity of Ann’s forlorn voice.
Ann? No - Miss Walker, now; a demotion from betrothed to acquaintance that leaves little opportunity for sentiment. Why, then, must all the cosmos press down upon Anne’s skull as she lifts it, by effortful increments, to face the girl? She means to give a smile to disarm the afflicted silence, yet produces the precise opposite: a bitter grimace that curdles her lips and darkens her brow with such disregard for her intent she might have laughed at it, were it not for the countless obvious reasons.
Well. How IMPLAUSIBLE a complaint, truly; a matter for a skilled optometrist to solve, perhaps, but thoroughly beyond her own competences -- acrimony lies in wait on Anne’s tongue, loaded with weeks and months of solitary practice. What she says at last, however, is this: “ The thermometer. ” And then, almost in a haste, hands wringing restlessly together before her polished coat buttons: “ My thermometer. At Shibden. It’s broken. Very much like any other I sought to purchase in its stead. ”
She shifts this way and that on her feet, collects herself only once the humiliation has grown into an abundance the whole of Yorkshire cannot contain. A breath, a raise of her chin, and her arms fall to her sides, fingers knotting painfully into the thick fabric of her skirts. “ There has been such an odd drop in temperature, neither measurable nor restricted to location. It’s CURIOUS; wherever I go, the cold retains its same... biting, hateful sting. Isn’t that nonsensical, Miss Walker? Isn’t it utterly absurd! ”
