nice
bds, murph & connor
by lilnee
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There's the clear knife edge of an otherwise gloomy sky cut open above, letting sun burst long, yellowish fingers down, lighting the falling rain drops sparkling white and sheer. Green field stretches far and wide beyond, suddenly bursting up into hills as smooth with shaggy grass as a coat of fur. Rolling and rolling, you couldn't see anything else. It's what fairy tales are made of. It feels heavy in his chest. The moment. As heavy as the moisture in the air. As heavy as the storm clouds moving slowly overhead in a mass, pressing down. It's dark all but for that bright wedge out there. Like God had stabbed just enough of a peephole through to see out of. It's the best he could liken it to. Connor's better with words than he is. That gets him wondering then, what his brother's seeing. Blue shivers beyond. A promise of good things to come. A promise of clearer skies, maybe. Connor's face is turned up toward the sky, up toward the colour. His hair glistens from the wetness, droplets forming, eyelashes fluttering. He'd just stepped out the back door, not quite soaked to the bone like Murphy yet. He'd been calling him for dinner.
"S'nice," he hears him say.
"Aye."