[And he does, in fact, start to put those pieces together. It starts with typing of course I know that and deleting it again because that's not productive. Starts with typing it out again but really just looking at it glowing on the screen for a while, until it starts to seem bigger than just the five words it is. Until "safe" stops being something that dredges up thoughts of black suits and firearms and high walls and bravado, and starts resonating more with a waiting plate of eggy bread at a chair that's his despite no one ever naming it so, and with sleeping in as late as he wants, and with being led through a snowstorm by fingers laced through his own.
After a while, "safe" starts to look like a word that could be traded out for "happy", and the latter would fit just as neatly. Or maybe like one that wouldn't have to be traded out at all. Like maybe the two aren't mutually exclusive, and never were.]
There's something I'd like to try. Will you indulge me?
no subject
After a while, "safe" starts to look like a word that could be traded out for "happy", and the latter would fit just as neatly. Or maybe like one that wouldn't have to be traded out at all. Like maybe the two aren't mutually exclusive, and never were.]
There's something I'd like to try. Will you indulge me?