—Miracles—
Chapter Twenty-One: Runaway
Howl hated arguments; they were so ugly, and you know how much he hated ugly things and what he will do to avoid them. But Sophie, she seemed to embrace the ugly things—like arguments and crying, which is exactly what was happening now. She sat on a stool looking absolutely horrid with snot flowing down from her nostril and her eyes as red and puffy as an infected sore. She would yell at him, hiccup and sigh and yell some more. He honestly did not understand what she was trying to convey; he felt like he was listening to a sick tabby cat yowling into the night.
"Why did—" hiccup, sniff, sigh, "you do this—" hiccup, sniff, sigh, "to me!" hiccup, sniff, sigh.
"What in heavens are you talking about?" Howl tried to hug his little mouse, but she pushed him away—she obviously did not want pity, but what else did she expect him to feel as she sniveled like a girl who just lost her puppy? Instead of accepting any consolidation he had to offer, she kept ignoring him and making more and more incoherent remarks about the most bizarre things. Until, finally, she banished him from the house. He happily obliged to such a symbiotic command.
After teasing about town and catching some chatter at the cafes a prickle of worry eked into his rather creative mind. Thus, he speedily returned home because, although arguments are ugly, worry on the face of a man (a man as handsome as himself, too) was unacceptable. Stepping into the foyer, he began to relate all his tall tales from this afternoon to Sophie—except, when he pulled himself away from himself, he saw there was no Sophie listening, a witty remark ready and sharp on her tongue.
Word Count: 300
AN: Ah, it seems as if Howl has rubbed off on Sophie… thank you for all your love and for reading! I get so giddy looking at the stats page and seeing a person from Sweden has read this! =D
Also, I hope this all seems like something possible; I get it that hormones are weird when pregnant, but really, I don't want it to be too far-fetched!