1 | fullmetal alchemist © hiromu arakawa
2 | 'ocean breathes salty' – modest mouse
3 | has a thousand songs in her itunes; only uses, like, five for writing.
On grey days, Gracia Hughes hates her own daughter.
But she plays the good mother—humming, happily baking in the kitchen, apple-honey scent coloring and flowing through the quiet rooms of her apartment. She places the tray of unbaked cookies in the oven as she hears light and quick footsteps behind her. Gracia closes the oven and sets the timer; behind her, she hears Elicia pull back a chair from the dining table as she hums an unfamiliar tune.
"Mommy, what are you baking today?" she says in her usual cheery tone as she noisily scrambles up her seat.
Gracia rises and wipes her hands on the towel resting on the counter. She turns to look at her daughter—sandy blonde hair, green eyes with flecks of light—and there is a dull buzz in her ears, but she pays it no mind. Seating herself across Elicia, she smiles all sugar and sunshine and says, "It's a surprise, sweetie."
"You always say that!" Elicia says all pouty and childish, but she beams at her mother.
Casting her eyes away, Gracia allows herself a small, short chuckle. Still, she sees the young girl from the corner of her eye, and she can't help but allow herself another look at her daughter. She now finds herself looking at her own reflection—sandy blonde hair, green eyes with flecks of light—and the dull buzz in her ears turns into unbearable high-pitched screeching like nails on a chalkboard, knife on a glass as she continues to stare.
Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance as the timer on the oven goes off.
On grey days, Gracia Hughes hates her own daughter. Sandy blonde hair and green eyes with flecks of light—it's because of these things that she hates her. It's not so much that Gracia hates herself, no. It's because Elicia has sandy blonde hair and green eyes with flecks of light that Gracia feels she has nothing left of Maes anymore.
Today is a grey day.