I knock on her door, first day of school in 4 years for her. Man I find that hard to imagine, for pone moment I envy her then I realize how stupid that sounded, envy a girl who's been in a military compound since she was 14, who's slept behind bar for four years, alone.
Sucks to be Ebony.
I knock on the door and she doesn't take long to answer, the outfit she's borrowed is plain, a pair of old jeans torn at the midrift which looks like kitty's and a red sweater that looks a little to big for her, probably belongs to 'Ro or Jean.
She's been crying, it doesn't look like she slept well at all, although her hair is in order, (scraped back tightly in a conservative ponytail) there are bags under her eyes and her face is drawn.
"Are you ok?" I ask. DOH! Bobby drake, master of witty conversation, ladies man extraordinaire.
I wish
She smiles at me, either unphased or downright amused by my untactful greeting "good morning to you too, and yeah I didn't sleep that well" she says.
"Sorry" I apologize. I apologize for everything but the careless question, I apologize for her life and how it turned out, I apologizing for liking her, maybe even loving her when a mans attentions are probably the last thing she needs. I apologize for the fact that I'm me, and not the prince charming she deserves.
"Don't worry about it bobby, honestly your as bad as me sometimes, come on., lets get breakfast, do you know I can't even remember the last time I had frosties?" she fakes a melodramatic sigh
"Can't remember frosties? Why that terrible, we must right this horrible wrong at once!" I quip with a laugh, she grins wider then, but she doesn't laugh. Mind you with the sadness that's in her eyes if I knew what she knew, I wouldn't laugh either.
I think it's that that keeps me coming to her I'm curious about who she is, about what it would be like to see her laugh, to see fire dance in those brown black eyes of her, passion... anything but sadness.
I just want to see her laugh.
Sucks to be Ebony.
I knock on the door and she doesn't take long to answer, the outfit she's borrowed is plain, a pair of old jeans torn at the midrift which looks like kitty's and a red sweater that looks a little to big for her, probably belongs to 'Ro or Jean.
She's been crying, it doesn't look like she slept well at all, although her hair is in order, (scraped back tightly in a conservative ponytail) there are bags under her eyes and her face is drawn.
"Are you ok?" I ask. DOH! Bobby drake, master of witty conversation, ladies man extraordinaire.
I wish
She smiles at me, either unphased or downright amused by my untactful greeting "good morning to you too, and yeah I didn't sleep that well" she says.
"Sorry" I apologize. I apologize for everything but the careless question, I apologize for her life and how it turned out, I apologizing for liking her, maybe even loving her when a mans attentions are probably the last thing she needs. I apologize for the fact that I'm me, and not the prince charming she deserves.
"Don't worry about it bobby, honestly your as bad as me sometimes, come on., lets get breakfast, do you know I can't even remember the last time I had frosties?" she fakes a melodramatic sigh
"Can't remember frosties? Why that terrible, we must right this horrible wrong at once!" I quip with a laugh, she grins wider then, but she doesn't laugh. Mind you with the sadness that's in her eyes if I knew what she knew, I wouldn't laugh either.
I think it's that that keeps me coming to her I'm curious about who she is, about what it would be like to see her laugh, to see fire dance in those brown black eyes of her, passion... anything but sadness.
I just want to see her laugh.
