Sorry I haven't updated in FOREVER! One more theme :)


No Comparison

Her hands were smooth where they should've been calloused. Her face was painted with make-up instead of smudged with grease. Her eyes were a soft chocolate where he used to see blue. Her hair was the same lemon color, but instead of tumbling down her back like a golden waterfall, it was chopped short—as was the fashion in Munich, Germany.

She flinched when he freaked out, where the girl he grew up with would've smacked him with the nearest wrench. She cried when he yelled at her, instead of yelling back. She thought his intelligence was cute instead of annoying.

She loved shopping and cooking, not working side-by-side on the broken down car. She liked her nails polished, not chipped. A perfect day would be lounging in a bath with scented soaps and flower petals, not creating new automail limbs and perfecting her works of art.

Comparing Winry Steinway to Winry Rockbell was simply a false analogy. There was no comparison.

Living with the parallel woman was like living in purgatory with a sky view of heaven. Hell, but it would be worse without seeing her in his every waking moment.