02.19.05

i still have that sheet

Wonder what it�ll be like to be another starving woman, sobbing there against her bed and the cheap paper representation of Manet's eternal spring. For a second you see the shot, there is the Harvard insignia, there is the red and the bold white. Those letters that strike fear into the hearts of 18 year olds everywhere. Come February, they know their masters.
It�s the same thing; she wants to help this wheat haired child. Rich girl falling for a poor boy (the pattern never ceases). He says slumming but you can see that she doesn�t know why he doesn�t understand. This helping, this helping isn�t that same thing as that damned charity that he hates so much.
At the same time though, it turns, because she is so afraid of him, for him. Because as she feels him on her chest at night she pats his hair and is it like an albatross and suddenly her body is sweating and the sheets stick to her uncomfortably and the night in their room takes on a presence. He then, he is loving her and pulling out good things from inside him that he never knew he had, trinkets long lost inside the recesses of his mind. He pulls them out and shines them to present to her, trying so hard.
But at her first misstep it is all over.
In a cascade, everything falls apart.
So that�s going to be the situation, isn�t it?

shi-ou-sama at 2:28 a.m.

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