09-27-2020, 09:56 PM
She likes the sound they make, the shells. And she likes the thought that his mother has them, too. That the two of them together must make the most wonderful sound. She smiles despite herself, her head tilted as she studies them.
As if privy to her thoughts, he assures her that it doesn’t hurt when they’re pulled. She blinks once and then, as if buoyed by this, reaches out to touch one. She takes one gingerly, tentatively between her lips. And just holds it a moment, not certain she’d know what to do with it if she drew it all the way out.
So she holds it a moment and then lets go, wedging a sliver of space between them when she does. He mentions her horns and she turns her gaze upward, though she can just barely make out the gentle curve of them out of the very corner of her eyes.
“No, my mom doesn’t have horns,” she admits and then rolls her shoulders in a kind of shrug. “I think I must have gotten them from my dad but I’ve never met him.” She shifts her focus back to her new friend’s face and conjures up another slanted smile. She has not allowed herself to feel any particular sadness about her father’s absence in her life. “What are your dad’s horns like?” she asks instead.
e l o d i e
@[Eugene]