float
She looks up at him and she sees abstract thought along the soft lines of his face. She reaches up an unsteady hand, tracing these reckless swirls cautiously.
He smiles, kissing her palm. Rare and sweet he grips her wrist firmly but gently, whispering words of nothing and promises that are only going to be broken in a few hours' time.
Clove sees his thoughts behind his eyes, and she translates them into: 'i love you.'
They're pretending and they're living in a fragile bubble, but please don't pop it, don't break it ohso carelessly; it's all they have left.
Clove and Cato in exactly 100 words. Proud I managed to do this, I could write a novel on these two, I really could. But I wanted to try something short and sweet and dangerous. (100 word not including the author's note, btw)
