(no subject)
Hands. Such an everyday thing one usually does not stop to think about them. They’re always there with you. They perform most of your daily tasks and would be quite hard to do things without them. Faye was glad to have physical hands once again, even if only for a little while.
She had spent the last month in the Afterlife Office, doing paper work. She hated paper work, so boring and tedious for such a woman. During this time, there was no need for a real body as nothing was quite tangible to mortal flesh. One was not needed for her fieldwork, lest someone see her as she works. But she needed one when visiting her child, Diana.
In the years since the accident, her mother, Diana’s Gran, had been taking care of her little girl. Well, by now, Diana would be thirteen so she wasn’t that little. Faye only visited her daughter from time to time, claiming business trips and such if she ever asked. It was quite odd how Faye never ate nor drank while in the presence of her mother and daughter, but they usually didn’t notice. Faye even coming to visit only happened for an hour at most every other week. Diana didn’t notice the odd chill when she’d touch her mother, an occurrence that grew briefer and farther apart each time.
Diana, or Disarray as everyone but her mother called her, was not a stupid child. She didn’t figure out that her mother was dead, oh no, but she did notice that despite the large amounts of scent that she used, something always smelled like it was burning around Faye. She never mentioned this, but rather kept it to herself and added it to a long list of why she disliked her mother.