#thread —— c : mitch novak.

[dehlilas]

     sure there is a metaphor in there, somewhere — the way the air is quickly saturated around her, oxygen making way to smoke, things burning and never quite rising from the ashes. it’s lingered at the back of her mind once or twice, unpleasant afterthought — never much dignified with anything more than an apathetic flick of her wrist, though it now stings just a little deeper. half-sprawled over the car seat, she can feel it prying against her spine. “ mind if i smoke ? ”. the question is rhetorical, only half muttered, really —— mitch lights one and barely cracks the window, wondering if danny’ll be too nice to point the obvious, or too tired of her shit to even try, anyway. what a man. the street is quiet, life slows to a crawl: if she listens closely she can hear it slither down her skin, oily, sickening. mitch huffs out a cloud of smoke then plants one foot against the dashboard, and turns halfway towards danny. gaze narrowing, her boredom now painted a shade of indiscreet. “ so, what’s up with you ? those circles around your eyes —— frankly, dear, you look like shit. ” mitch grins, a shrug follows. “ didn’t wanna point out the obvious, but this is boring, so... ”

@sacraementals​ / sc.