small fic
i'm back. thank god. gah. i missed ficcing.
title this for me, please, if you would...
truth be told, neela liked secrets.
she found something delicious in holding one against her heart, taking it out when no one was looking. discovering it for yourself in a frightening moment of clarity, on the bus, in the car, somewhere innocuous and anonymous. and then she woudl be, with her little scary treasure-trove of new knowledge. something to stretch and play with.
she liked them.
the way they softened reality around the edges.
there were times when it floated her, allowing the passage of time to move like a ghost through neela's body, as though the physical world had slipped into an alternate somewhere. the disgustingly hot lounge melted away at the imagined sound of her own voice hesitanty asking to touch abby's long, honey-brown hair, at the husky, confused reply of 'yes,' of the imagined flutter of lashes as neela nervously brushed the tender skin by abby's ear. the thought of that ear, that little pink shell, lobe dotted with a modest gold stud, made neela's heart swell with blood she didn't think she had. she could almost see it, red and gushing, flowing in as dark blue as seawater and out as red as wine.
she took abby out during the dull moments, the loud moments, the rough moments and the long moments, and let the image of her play in her head to her hearts content. soon, neela knew, it would not be enough, would not quench whatever she seeked to satisfy. the minutes and hours would begin to tug at her and the corners of rheuminations would wear thin. the sight of abby would become painful, a sting with a twinge of quasi-irony, as she shook her hair loose from its ponytail. she would glance at neela, regarding her from behind that hard-lined nose, the elegant kind with the irish jump in it, and smile, maybe, somewhat distantly. like she always did.
but until then, it would remain as it was. an escape, a treat. the little pats on the back or brushes of the arm from abby would not have projected meaning--no, it was too early in the game for that.
no, it would remain sweet.
title this for me, please, if you would...
truth be told, neela liked secrets.
she found something delicious in holding one against her heart, taking it out when no one was looking. discovering it for yourself in a frightening moment of clarity, on the bus, in the car, somewhere innocuous and anonymous. and then she woudl be, with her little scary treasure-trove of new knowledge. something to stretch and play with.
she liked them.
the way they softened reality around the edges.
there were times when it floated her, allowing the passage of time to move like a ghost through neela's body, as though the physical world had slipped into an alternate somewhere. the disgustingly hot lounge melted away at the imagined sound of her own voice hesitanty asking to touch abby's long, honey-brown hair, at the husky, confused reply of 'yes,' of the imagined flutter of lashes as neela nervously brushed the tender skin by abby's ear. the thought of that ear, that little pink shell, lobe dotted with a modest gold stud, made neela's heart swell with blood she didn't think she had. she could almost see it, red and gushing, flowing in as dark blue as seawater and out as red as wine.
she took abby out during the dull moments, the loud moments, the rough moments and the long moments, and let the image of her play in her head to her hearts content. soon, neela knew, it would not be enough, would not quench whatever she seeked to satisfy. the minutes and hours would begin to tug at her and the corners of rheuminations would wear thin. the sight of abby would become painful, a sting with a twinge of quasi-irony, as she shook her hair loose from its ponytail. she would glance at neela, regarding her from behind that hard-lined nose, the elegant kind with the irish jump in it, and smile, maybe, somewhat distantly. like she always did.
but until then, it would remain as it was. an escape, a treat. the little pats on the back or brushes of the arm from abby would not have projected meaning--no, it was too early in the game for that.
no, it would remain sweet.