(no subject)
In high school Chris had a navy blue hooded sweater that he'd let her wear during the football games he played in. She’d sit on the bleachers, with the sweater that was twice as big as the ones she’d be used to, and watch him play football. In that same sweater, while she wore it, she watched him win games; looking so proud with his teammates while she cheered for him. Also, in that same sweater, she had seen him the day that he had gotten injured during one of their games; she had seen the way that the ambulance took him away because he had injured his knee. She had sat in the waiting room during his surgery, willing herself to just wait.
After high school, after Chris left, she spent days in that blue sweater that he had left for her. As the months wore on, and then the years, that blue sweater was put away in a box that she later placed in her mother’s attic. It was a reminder that he was gone and, from the looks of it then, he wasn’t coming back.
The night she found out that he was back, that same night when Jay tried to kill him, she had made her way to her mother’s and had dug out that old blue sweater. She had held it close to her, wondering why she was feeling all those things she could have sworn she had gotten rid of years ago.
Now she was in their apartment; an apartment she and Chris shared. And she still had that blue sweater; it was her favorite one. It was old, and it was big, but she loved to wear it: sometimes for no reason whatsoever and other times while Chris was away at work during the night.
As she finished with laundry, she smiled as she folded the sweater, knowing it’d be hard for her to ever part with it.
crossposted to theatrical_muse
After high school, after Chris left, she spent days in that blue sweater that he had left for her. As the months wore on, and then the years, that blue sweater was put away in a box that she later placed in her mother’s attic. It was a reminder that he was gone and, from the looks of it then, he wasn’t coming back.
The night she found out that he was back, that same night when Jay tried to kill him, she had made her way to her mother’s and had dug out that old blue sweater. She had held it close to her, wondering why she was feeling all those things she could have sworn she had gotten rid of years ago.
Now she was in their apartment; an apartment she and Chris shared. And she still had that blue sweater; it was her favorite one. It was old, and it was big, but she loved to wear it: sometimes for no reason whatsoever and other times while Chris was away at work during the night.
As she finished with laundry, she smiled as she folded the sweater, knowing it’d be hard for her to ever part with it.
crossposted to theatrical_muse