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"The Darkest Reflection"Written By: Impish Rating: strong R Pairings: main 1+2+1, background 2+3, OFC+5 and
4+3 Category: Duo POV with angst, action, drama and
politics. Warnings: creepiness, more graphic images and
gore Summery: The earth sphere has moved on into an
age of peace, but Duo is fighting battles of his own. He has reluctantly
joined the Preventers, and is surprised to see Heero sign up as well.
With an assassin on the loose and an increase in suspicious activity,
he’s beginning to realize the fine line between genius and insanity,
and how easily it can be erased. Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing. Surprise!
And none of the songs or titles belong to me, either.
CHAPTER 7: Band Aid Covers the Bullet Hole “They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.”
Regrettably, clichés don’t do much for me. I would say it could be more accurately depicted as the moment before a car crash. It isn’t a period of serenity and reflection before ultimate doom. It’s a quickly building tension where no matter what you do in those last minutes, the momentum and velocity still carry you to the inevitable collision of events. Everything comes together with such speed and force that you can’t even really remember it all when it’s over. And besides, if this truly were the calm before the storm, then we wouldn’t have all this work to do, and it definitely wouldn’t be raining yet. I had picked a sour morning to be late. Of course, when the prescription said “allow seven hours for sleep,” they just had to really mean it. And since I was already very far behind the usual schedule, I knew that running to work was going to take less time than driving because the traffic at this hour would be at a stand still for at least another forty minutes. By the time I burst in to my office, I was soaking wet, disheveled from restless sleep, breathless from the run, and even worse, without caffeine. I looked like shit, and judging by the looks on Wufei and Heero’s faces, they thought so too. “Maxwell! What the hell happened to you?” “It’s raining. You should wear a jacket to go outside.” I told him flatly, wringing out my braid. “I didn’t.” I dropped my braid and sneezed, the motion tousling my bangs, and Heero handed me a tissue. Wufei looked at me like I had come down with a particularly vile strain of cuteness. “Thanks man.” I said to Heero, taking the offered tissue and then crossing the room to drip over against the window, since Wufei was in my chair. “I just came by for that copy of the Poseidon file. You can have your seat back.” He said, starting to stand. “S’ok. It’s in that top drawer.” I pointed vaguely, my nose buried in the tissue. “Duo, this drawer is full of junk.” Wu Fei said crossly. I shifted uncomfortably. “No it’s not.” I frowned, tossing the tissue in the trash. “I see junk. You have what? Coke tabs, twist ties, string, bailing twine, hair ties, and bottle caps… you have rocks in here. Why would you keep rocks in your desk drawer?” He grumbled incredulously, rooting through the contents in irritation. I quickly pushed off the sill and reached forward, slamming the drawer closed, almost shutting it on his hand. “It’s not junk.” I mumbled again and opened the drawer next to it, pulling out the file. “That what you were looking for?” He looked at me oddly. “What’s the matter with you?” “What? Nothing!” “He’s right, Duo. You look off.” Heero said quietly, frowning. “I overslept. Of course I’m off. I was late and I haven’t had any coffee yet.” I said defensively. If anything their frowns deepened. “Are your injuries bothering you?” Wufei asked suspiciously. “No!” “Well, I suggest you get some coffee, then.” Heero told me, hesitantly. “We have a meeting with Une in fifteen minutes.” I went to the break room, where, thankfully, Daiyu was the only person present. She was the only one since I’d come back to work to not bother me constantly about getting hurt on the last case. For god’s sake, it’s not like I took one to the chest. “Hey. How’s the coffee?” I asked as I poured. “Better, today.” She said, stirring absently. “Rain should lighten up by this weekend, don’t you think?” “Probably.” “Wufei still hasn’t asked you out, has he?” I sighed, sitting down. “No.” She flicked a sugar packet across the table. “After that act of chivalry the other night, I thought he was at least heading in the right direction.” I murmured, taking my coffee in both hands to sip at it. I stared down at the cup and frowned. I think I was becoming immune to the shit. She moaned weakly, half-covering her face with a hand. “I really don’t know what came over me, you know I don’t usually get into… arguments like that. I’m so sorry Duo, I meant to apologize earlier.” “Don’t worry about it, no harm done. The important thing was that he backed you up.” I said over the rim of my cup. “But you know how he is. With that ‘justice and honor’ thing.” She pointed out, crossing her arms and leaning them on the table. “Yeah, but he also has that ‘women are weak, so pah!’ thing.” I rebutted. “He wouldn’t have wasted his time unless he thought you were worthy of it.” “I think he got over that part. He and Sally do fine.” She checked her watch, then looked back up at me. “How are you feeling? Does your arm hurt much?” “It’s fine.” I said, waving her concern away with suppressed irritation. “It really doesn’t hurt at all.” “If you say so.” She said dubiously. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” “Shoot.” I got up to pour a last cup of coffee before I had to go. “You don’t particularly like Carly Hatcher, do you?” “…No.” “Oh, good. Because we’re going to demolish her locker.” I blew at the steam rising from my cup. “But we didn’t get in trouble over Greg’s locker ‘cause he’s cool like that. Carly’s just…” “A bitch? That’s why we’re doing it. She stole my nunchucks.” Daiyu took a sip of her coffee and rolled her eyes. “Like I wouldn’t notice she took them.” I lifted a brow at her. “Do you actually *use* those? I mean, they’re cool, but a bit-” “Yes, of course I use them!” She scoffed professionally. “…Okay, fine. But we have to do it differently. If I just pick the lock, she’ll know it was us.” I told her, checking the clock behind her. She toyed with another sugar packet. “Then what do we do?” “We do like normal people who can’t get into locks do… we use bolt cutters.” I said wryly, tossing my now empty Styrofoam cup into the trash. “And make it look like… copycat pranksters.” She tilted her head. “I like it.” “Good, ‘cause I have to go.” And I was off like a prom dress. I ran back into Heero outside of Une’s office. Sandy ushered us in, bringing Une what appeared to be a vanilla latte from the coffee shop just across the street, then leaving when Une sedately thanked her. The desk was as impeccably neat as usual. Une struck me as obsessively structured because she came from a military background and felt the need to create order out of chaos in order to accomplish what needed to be done. I remembered Quatre was the same way, but I theorized that it was more likely that he kept things orderly so as to avoid the chaos he associated with war. Already speaking to the commander were Elise and Miller, one looking relieved, the other kind of annoyed. There were two empty chairs next to the ones already occupied, so Heero and I went ahead and took our seats when bade. Une sat forward, taking a long sip from her drink. Une set the cup down. “Good morning, gentlemen. Your next assignment is picking up where Agents Miller and Linwood left off on the Sandman case.” Ah. That explained the looks. “I feel that you have had previous experience which will be useful in application in this matter, and Miller and Linwood’s skills are required in other areas. With the input Agent Maxwell has already provided, I feel your transition will be unproblematic.” Not to mention that everything Elise and Miller had been doing was mostly at HQ, if not limited to within the city. No traveling and no action. It was more than mildly probable that this switch was partially because Une didn’t consider me physically ready for something more strenuous. No faith at all. “Agents, if you would please get Yuy and Maxwell up to date with a brief overview?” Elise gave Miller a look that said clearly “you do it.” Not one to ever deny her anything, he complied. “From what we’ve found so far, Representative Knox and Mr. Aquino were killed with variants of the same poison, which was administered through the eyes, most likely through a contact lens solution. Dr. Rice was shot execution style and Governor Ferdinand had his throat slit, but the same poison was applied to both victim’s eyes post-mortem. There are no monetary connections from the employer to Sandman, as there isn’t a conclusive electronic trail, so it’s most likely there was another arrangement-” “Wait, no there wasn’t.” I cut him off, and everyone turned to look at me. “Agent Maxwell, this was our case,” Miller said, more offended than jealous for once. “And I assure you, we have been very thorough. If there were money, we would have found it.” I huffed a little breath. “Well, there is money. There were off shore accounts that came up when I traced-” This time Une cut in. “What do you mean, you traced? This wasn’t your case. Duo, if you hacked the system again…” “No, of course not. I used Elise’s codes.” I said without thinking. Elise blinked. “But… I never gave them to you.” Oops. Une pinched the bridge of her nose. “How did you get Agent Linwood’s access code?” “…I heard her type it in once.” There was a brief silence. “…What? You *heard*…?” “Yeah,” I said, slowly. “We collaborated on the Robinson case, and I was on the phone with her when she was logging in.” “But how-” “She’s right-handed and has an average typing speed of 70 wpm. I heard the rhythm of the keys.” Heero covered his mouth with a hand, looking like he was smothering a laugh. “And you remembered this?” “Um… yeah.” Elise and Luke were staring at me like they’d been knocked for six, but Une just sighed heavily, then took a sip from her drink. “I knew there had to be a good reason we lost that war.” I sneezed. At first, I was disappointed that a dead-end case was being dumped on us, but then I found myself starting to look forward to the prospect of something more challenging than stake-outs or other scut work Une was likely to assign. Heero walked into the office first and sat down, flipping the new files open immediately. I shut the door behind us, and looking at my desk, noticed a yellow slip of paper in the center. I figured Wufei must have left a note, since I usually kept my desk clear. Maybe it was a little paranoid, but it wasn’t a good idea to leave stuff out where everyone could see it. I picked up the note. Where does the jester lie- Everything felt very wrong all of a sudden. There was no way Wufei left this. It was in my handwriting. I looked at Heero, then down at the note, then back up again. Should I tell him? He might think I was being stupid. It was in my handwriting. I just stared at the note, knowing that I had either gone completely mad or… “Hey, Heero?” I said, and something in my voice made his head snap to look at me. “What is it?” He asked. “How do Sandman’s employers reach him in the first place? I mean, since no one really knows who he is.” He looked at me carefully. “He watches them. I think he knows when there’s a good job, and he knows what they’ll be willing to pay. He chooses them, they don’t choose him. That’s why its so hard to track him.” “So… if he keeps tabs on the bad guys, wouldn’t it make sense that he’s watching us too?” I reached over and placed the note on his desk, not really sure if I was making the right move. His eyes flickered over the letters. “You… you didn’t write this?” “No. It was just there when we got back. Wufei didn’t leave anything behind when he left?” “No. There wasn’t anything on your desk.” He answered. “You’re-” “I’m sure.” He looked back down at the note. “We were gone for over an hour. Anyone could have left this in here while we were in Une’s office. A secretary, an agent…” “But it wasn’t.” I shook my head, hands in my hair, and paced, the words murmured at the same pace my mind was racing. “He forged my handwriting. He got into Preventers Headquarters, and he left me a note in my own handwriting. Before anyone else knew we were switching cases. Why go to all that trouble?” “We don’t know it was Sandman.” Heero reminded calmingly. I stopped pacing. “I do.” His expression was entirely neutral. “And how is that exactly?” “Hel-lo!” I gestured incredulously. “Who else, Heero?” “*Anyone.* You’re jumping to conclusions, and it isn’t like you.” He said persistently. “But why would they bother putting it in my handwriting? If this is some kind of joke, some kind of message, a mistake, or god knows *anything* else, then why is it in my handwriting? !” My voice was rising and I knew I was freaking out, but it was really starting to piss me off that he wasn’t listening. Like just because I’d been injured, all of a sudden I was incapable of thinking logically. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you overreacting?” He asked sharply, his words reflecting my thoughts. “I am *not* overreacting!” I was almost screaming with frustration. “You are not taking this seriously, and there is nothing wrong with me!” “Duo, you’re hurt.” He said coolly. “I’m fine! How many times do I have to say that I’m *fine*?! There is nothing-” “No, Duo.” He cut me off sharply. “You’re not injured, you’re *hurt.*” The words stopped me cold. I wasn’t sure if it was the sudden emotional shift or the way his goddamned eyes were looking at me, but I felt choked up and smothered and utterly incapable of breathing. “Duo, please… just…” I backed away a step involuntarily, my head feeling light and the air suddenly too thin to take in. “Just tell me why you’re hurting so badly.” His voice was somewhere between distress and frustration and closer to confusion. My body swayed, half wanting to run and half wanting to collapse on the floor. My hand twitched, but I didn’t reach out. “I doubt we’ll find anything in the way of forensic evidence… but I should send it downstairs just in case.” I said quietly. “I’ll copy down what it says and take it to Forensics.” I reached past him, took the note, and left him standing alone in the office, with whatever it was in his eyes chasing after me. Forensics didn’t even get a partial print on the paper aside from mine and Heero’s. All they could tell me was what kind it was (plain yellow blend found in any office supply store) and what ink had been used (standard black, once again, found in any office supply store). Nothing had been written on the sheets on top of it, nothing unusual had been beneath it while it was being written on. I had been studying the poem all day, doing my best to avoid conversation with Heero, who was actually working on the case we’d been assigned. It wasn’t a code, and it wasn’t a calling card. He had never left a note before, as far as I knew. Nothing about any notes in the file, either. Maybe Heero had been right. It could have been any number of people. “Where does the jester lie…” was Sandman referring to himself? Was he taunting us with his whereabouts? He didn’t strike me as much of a joker. “Behind a shroud of stone…” A shroud was an ancient burial covering… one of stone could indicate a mausoleum. I flashed back to Guatemala and the tomb in the tree. Did he know we had been there? If so, how could he have possibly known about the tomb? And why would he care enough to follow us there when we hadn’t been assigned to his case yet? “Where does the jester lie…” Lie as in rest (eternally in a tomb?) or lie as in not tell the truth? “Or on a cord that’s tied…” I frowned. That sounded like a mask. A jester’s mask? “Around the frozen bone…” Frozen, unmoving… unfeeling? Another reference to death? Or masks… a shroud was a cover, stone was another reference to something motionless, emotionless. It could be skeletal. A human stripped down to the bone, stripped down to bared emotions. A skeleton does always seems to grin. Or was it like the veil of stone- frozen, dead, lack of emotion and detachment? A porcelain mask, of either perfect politeness, or a cool, detached lack of emotion. “Where does the jester lie…” Behind an emotional mask? Or is the jester the mask? I went back to the tomb idea. Cord that’s tied… a lock of some sort, maybe. Frozen could either suggest a lack of motion or something cold. A stone grave in a cold, inaccessible place. No… the mask thing was more likely. He wasn’t going to give us clues, he was just provoking us. Everything about the note was intended to goad us, from its intrusive placement on my desk to the message on it. The vid-phone on my desk rang, jolting me in surprise. Daiyu popped on the screen, not saying a word. She just arched an eyebrow at me expectantly. I winked and smiled back at her and shut off the vid-phone. “I need to check something out.” I told Heero, not checking back to see if he bothered looking up from his work. I took the elevator downstairs, stopping on the way down to find the bolt cutters. Daiyu was waiting for me outside the women’s locker room. “Don’t worry, I checked. There’s no one in there, and there won’t be until at least three o’clock.” She said, holding the door open. “I found them.” I pulled the tool out from under my jacket and walked in after her. “Which one is it?” “Thirty-four.” Daiyu sat on a bench, crossing her legs. “So… why am I helping this time? No lock picking required.” I flipped the lock to an angle that I could cut it. “You’re just setting me up to take the fall for this aren’t you?” “That wouldn’t be a bad idea, now that you mention it…” She mused airily. I shot her a look and she laughed elegantly. “Daiyu… seriously.” I rolled my eyes. ‘No reason, really. You missed lunch, I figured you could use a break.” I gave her a genuine smile, clipping the lock of with a sharp snap. “Actually, yeah. That was pretty good timing.” Heero had come up with a couple of leads that I think both of us knew would turn into dead ends. The pressure in the room was thick and building steadily. I was only too happy to leave when the work day ended, leaving the Preventers building quickly to began walking down the sidewalk towards the bus stop with the rest of the crowd getting off at five. The second I left the building, there were eyes pinned to me… the kind of eyes that had me thinking someone was wanting to follow me. I crossed the street, using that “look both ways” thing I always hear mothers screeching at their offspring as an excuse to find whoever was watching. He was halfway down the block. He tailed me to the bus, getting on the front when I got in through the back doors. The space was thick with people and there was barely even any standing room available. I started up some small talk with the woman in front of me, who was conveniently short enough that I could get a good look at him over her head. He was fairly well-dressed, but not enough to stand out in this part of town. He blended right in with all the other people getting off work at this hour. Which was perfect for me. I stayed on the bus long after my stop, until there was an entirely different kind of crowd congesting the small space. Once the bus stopped in the seediest part of the city I stepped off, immediately walking behind the bus and circling it all the way back around to the front. My tail had gotten off to follow me, as I had expected. Just as the driver was about to close the doors again, I got back on, leaving the man looking around in aggravated displeasure. I rode the bus back to the other side of town, walking the rest of the way to my apartment. I didn’t think anyone was still following, but I muddled up my trail anyway. I was a good three hours later than I would have been by the time I got back. Kicking off my shoes, I dumped my keys and backpack on the kitchen counter and went to the bedroom. The man who followed me wasn’t Sandman, and he definitely didn’t work with or for him, either. Sandman was too subtle, and far too careful to have been spotted and then lost his mark on top of it. Which meant someone else was watching me. This should be fun. I pulled out the slip of paper I cad copied the poem down on, fingering it warily. It slid from my fingers and floated to the ground, my hand going to my throat involuntarily. Sighing, I picked it up again, walked over to the bed stand and left it there to go take a shower. The hot water was on, for once, so I took a couple extra minutes just standing there, soaking up the warmth. Finally, I shut the water off and got out, wrapping a towel around my waist and setting about the task of brushing out my hair. It was raining again outside, and the faint light soaking through the window was a washed out neon from the signs on the street. I looked at the bed with hesitation, seriously debating the pills. It was a bit of a “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” situation. Would I get more rest not sleeping at all, or with a sleep plagued by nightmares? I decided on sticking with the pills for a while longer. I could handle nightmares. It was L2, and I recognized the street, but the people there were all in uniform. They carried guns, strange, unrealistic weapons that I knew didn’t exist, but I still felt were dangerous. I wandered through the streets, and wondered that the soldiers were so much taller than I was. The scene shifted as I snuck through the base into the hanger. There were trucks there, with tarped down mobile suits. I took one and dragged it behind me through the streets, hiding it in my shadow until I reached the Maxwell Church again. The old church was quiet and calm against the backdrop of the colony until an explosion rocked the ground, sending me staggering to the ground. I looked up through shaggy bangs and screamed in anger, running towards the now flaming building. But the doors were barred shut, and I couldn’t get in. I pulled and pushed at them, but they only shuddered ineffectually. Cries seeped from the building, morphing from terrified panic to agonized pain. Smoke poured thick from every gap in the structure, the smell of it chalky and blistered, stinging my lungs and my eyes. The tower of flames couldn’t mask the buckling of the roof, and as the church began to collapse, I ran around the side to crawl in through an already shattered window, cutting my hands on the remaining shards of glass. Chunks of stone crashed down all around me, the flames engulfing everything in a wall of searing heat. It was an inferno, burning everything as a tornado of fire and smoke. I dodged raining debris, climbing over fallen pews and mangled bodies until I reached the alter at the front of the church, my breathing ragged from the intensity of the building smoke and thickening scent of charred flesh. The cross had fallen from over the alter onto Father Maxwell, who was dead already, crushed under the rubble. He reminded me of a bug, all crunched up and broken, his eyes still wide and staring open into my soul. Sister Helen was painfully slipping from life, and I fell to my knees in their blood and watched as the last of her life bled into the ground, the splash of my hands on the floor splattering my front in red. Their blood fused into a pool as smooth and reflective as a great mirror, with me kneeling in the middle of it, a hurt radiating so sharply inside me that it overshadowed the physical pain. I felt their blood running down my face, my eyes wild. I felt heavy and wet, and looked down to realize that I was sinking into the ground, into the blood. I tried to pull myself out, tried to reach for the edges, but slowly continued to descend further, as if I were caught in quicksand. I struggled to keep my head up, and found myself level with Sister Helen’s lifeless, unblinking eye. I didn’t bother to hold the breath I had been saving after that. I stopped struggling, and let my head slip under. But I had not escaped the flames. They were still all around me so that I saw nothing but them, heard nothing but their roar, smelled nothing but the burning of flesh and smoke, felt nothing but their heat and a searing pain throughout my entire body. Nothing but flames, blurred and wavering with intensity. The temperature was thick and so hot I felt as though my skin would melt off my body… but then through the curtain of fire, a figure appeared. Heero. It was Heero, with the electricity of his eyes matching the heat of the flames enveloping us. He was untouched by the fire around him, just floating there before me. I tried to call out, but had no voice. I realized that I wasn’t breathing, and tried to start, only to find myself incapable of it. Heero stared at me struggling for breath, and slowly raised a hand to his face. My eyes snapped open. I got to the office around the usual hour this time. Heero, apparently, had never made it home. I found him slumped over his desk when I came in. I didn’t have time to be worried, as the second he heard the door, he had reflexively woken and spun to face me. He looked both mussed and startled at once. Very cute, for a guy aiming a gun at me. “Good morning to you, too.” I said wryly. He re-holstered the gun. “Sorry.” “Make any progress?” I asked, leaning in the doorway. “Not really.” He replied lowly. “Nothing conclusive anyway.” “…I’m sorry.” I said so softly I could hardly hear myself, my head falling to rest on the doorframe. He looked up at me and I couldn’t figure out what direction he was thinking in. “I… know. I just wonder why.” The subject lingered in the air even as I sat down and we turned away from each other. It never really dissipated, the rest of the day passing slowly, with Heero and I bouncing ideas off each other, neither of us really coming up with anything substantial. Inventive, but not substantial. I don’t think either of us really noticed missing lunch. By two I had to get out of there, so I went to the break room for some coffee. The room was empty, so I sat at the table by myself taking a minute to sip at the cooling drink slowly. The break from the constant torture this case seemed bound to become had my thoughts tracking back in time, for some reason, to after the war. I remembered the sun. Yeah, the sun was setting. I had sat, watching it shrivel and melt into the west. The wharf I had sat on was cold, and I remembered thinking this couldn’t possibly be the end. The sun would rise again. Footsteps approached me from behind. Soft, subtle, and even… like a stalking cat. Trowa. He stood a pace behind me and joined in watching the ending of the day. We didn’t say anything. The colors began to meld, and the blood red wash grew darker, sweeping across the sky over the water like smeared ink. The color blotted the sky, flooding my vision. It dripped down the portrait of the view like blood. I shook my head to clear the image, but it remained, burning. I rubbed at my stinging eyes, and turned to ask Trowa if he saw it too… and forgot my blistering eyes. Trowa’s skin on his neck was withering. It began to peel away, slowly, all the way through to the flesh beneath. He didn’t move, looking at me, surprised. The now visible muscles severed and snapped, his head rotating until the whole head and neck were slowly torn from his torso. Pulled away by some unseen force, the head swiveled back around to look at me. It didn’t come off alone. The spine was sucked out of his body, and stringy bits of throat, then a mess of entrails and organs follow. The grotesque puppet fell before me, and I couldn’t scream, couldn’t move. All I could do was stare at the stunned expression on his face. Someone was there. I started out of the vision, falling backwards out of the chair. I hit the carpet with my shoulder, but rolled into a crouch to face the intruder. It was Hamm Finn, looking at me like he felt humanity as a whole would be much safer if I were locked up in a straight jacket in ‘Pleasantview, Home for the Discretely Insane.’ Appropriate reaction, for once. “What the hell is wrong with you, Maxwell?” He eyed me warily. “Nothing important. You just surprised me… I must have drifted off.” I dumped my coffee in the trash and twirled around, walking as calmly as I could out of the room with the images strangely imprinted in my thoughts. When I returned to the office, Heero’s chair was empty, but my desk wasn’t. Another yellow slip of paper was placed in the exact center of my workspace. Domino is black and white It was in my handwriting again. I heard Heero come up behind me. He looked over my shoulder at the note, the heat of his body radiating against me. His muscles tensed upon seeing what I held. “Another.” He said, unnecessarily. “Yeah.” I said softly. Sandman was beginning to really piss me off. I sat and re-read the note, Heero looking down at me without speaking. He went back to his desk, and scribbled something down. I looked over to see what it was. He had copied the poem down. I almost started to say something, but then ducked my head and turned back to my own desk to attempt to decipher the new message. Domino… a chain reaction? Or… a game. “Is black and white…” No grey or color… simple? Stark? Or good and evil? Opposites, of some kind? “But here there’s color, too…” So, not so simple. “These feathers so rich and light…” Rich in color, light in weight. “These costumes bright and blue…” Were the feathers part of the costume? Even just looking at the color idea, there were a few different interpretations. The people are black and white like dominos, but they wear colorful and elaborate costumes to disguise their starkness. This is a game. The people are like dominos; he plays with them until he’s ready to knock them all over with a single tap. This is a game. It’s not black and white, as it seems. It is bright, bold, and obvious, but intricate and complicated. The costumes are obvious, because they’re in color, but we can’t see the costumes because we see in black and white. The crash wouldn’t come soon. Not yet. It would come later. For now, it was the slow squeeze of pressure. The wheezing shortness of breath. A hand tightening at our throats, only I couldn’t see whose it was.
~ Bees in the caramel and I'm not afraid ~ * ~ |
