Moments
Chapter 7: Picture Frame
It was the slight disturbance in the air, one that made her brows knit as she stepped into her own room. Something was off, just the tiniest bit, but it was. A sliver of something more lingering over the soft, familiar fragrance of dust and memories.
It tickled her nose, teased her senses as she tried to recognize what was it. It brought a flash of uneasiness at first, one that too quickly changed into grief and a pang of dull, well-known pain.
The faint smell of burned wood and a scorched life, of dreams and illusions that were gone as soon as winds blew the smoke away.
The small hair on her arms rose, as it got colder, despite middle of Summer and the sun high in the cloudless sky.
Breath quick, too quick, too shallow, claret eyes widening as they roamed through the room, looking for the source of this sudden panic like feeling.
And it was there.
It was small, and burnt, and she thought she'd never see it again, never see them again.
The wood turned to rocky coal, the glass stained with ugly brown and the colors already faded away, corners burned so long ago, but she still could see the cyan shade of the small girl's dress, and the auburn of the woman's hair, stormy eyes of the man. She could see the small scrape on a childish knee, the subtle knuckles of piano skilled fingers that were curled round a small shoulder and the stubborn, square jaw.
She breathed only as leather clad, strong hands rested on her hips, as lips more accustomed to frown than to smiles were pressed to the base of her neck.
Red eyes were wide and glazed as she turned to face him, quivering lips parted, silently demanding answers, why this, why now, today, so many years later…
"I know you never want to forget" Cloud's lips brushed against her ear, his arms wrapping around her.
Dust speckles danced around them, high lightened by the warm sun, as she found her breath again.
