She had always liked the way his words broke the air, the lilt to his deep voice. It must have been the way his tongue curled around the words as he spoke them; not quite an accent but almost. It was the inflection, the tone, the something that made the sound of his voice one of her favorites. It comforted her to hear it, it made her smile when she felt nothing else could; he made her smile when nothing else could. She liked to watch the way his lips moved as he spoke, as he sang along to music, as he smiled. She’d been watching for so long, she didn’t even notice that she did it until she realized it meant something.
excerpt from a work in progress









