[ the hurt makes her want to recoil and blame, do something with how much this is seeping like a wound out of her. But that wasn't her way, so she just does nothing at all.
Grief is a twisting, knotted thing. ]
(I would. I do. Thank you.)
[ It's without her usual teeming giddiness, any of the softness. Just bare and empty. ]
no subject
Grief is a twisting, knotted thing. ]
( I would. I do. Thank you. )
[ It's without her usual teeming giddiness, any of the softness. Just bare and empty. ]