The Rules of Drabbling: (1) Grammar doesn't matter. Effect does. (2) A drabble is kind of like a free-style poem. Just let it go. (3) There is no posting schedule. Don't worry, you'll live.

Just so you guys know, there will be some implied sexual content in some of these. Nothing specific, though, and it's not enough to even make this a PG13 fic. Usually, you can just draw your own conclusions (like in Things Known). You have been warned.

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Luna: Bottle Caps

Click. Click. Click.

She sits on the damp ground, stringing together bottle caps. She collects them. Every bottle cap from every bottle she drinks in between her visits to this place is tenderly packed away, patiently awaiting the day when it will join the necklace, take its place on the memory string.

Click. Click.

It's raining today, but she doesn't mind. Rain makes thing clean, washes all the darkness away. It makes her want to dance and twirl at the thought of being pure again, of finding her innocence. Innocence she lost long ago. Innocence she knows she'll never regain.

Click. Click. Click.

Life is lonely sometimes. But she doesn't want to remember, doesn't have to, except when she's here. Then it's on her like a stain that nothing, even rain, can wash away. Sometimes, she feels like the only person in the world who's lonely, and she hates to feel alone. But she knows. She knows she is.

Click. Click.

She's singing now, closing her eyes and trying to remember something bright and glorious. She does remember now, she finds that she can't finish her song through her sobs. Why does she have to remember that? Those things that hurt, why can't they just slip away? Is a memory of happiness too much to ask for?

Click. Click. Click.

She hates crying, hates the overwhelming sadness of this place. She is a fortress of strength, though most cannot see it. Nothing ever hurts her. Nothing but this. It hurts her so much because, no matter what she does, this is life, this is real. The stone is cold and wet, the ground is thick and dark. As she traces the words written, Beloved Wife and Mother, she closes her eyes and pretends that nothing was ever broken, that life is whole once more, and the bottle caps… The bottle caps are all that's real.

"I love you, Mom."

Click..........Click.........Click.........

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12/25/05