[ There's more to work with there, more points to take a turn in on themselves to fit his picture and warp hers like a knock off Picasso and he's ready to do just that until she suddenly cuts off the supply.
Any argument he's building, piece by piece as each word registers and goes refiled into something that strikes him as correct, the basis of an answer written in seconds by a mind rocketing through its draft as it reads through the paper it's refuting, comes to a dizzy pause in construction as it snags on something.
He couldn't say exactly what did it. But by the time he's finished reading the last few words, there's a horrible clot nestled in behind his sternum, heavy with regret and what regret might make him do. ]
I didn't mean to do that.
[ He did. He did mean to do it. He'd fallen into it with an easy hunger. And if he doesn't go now, either he'll do it again, or— ]
I'm sorry, Clarke. I'll get in touch another time.
[ Or he won't do it again. And neither of those options are any more palatable than the other. ]
no subject
Any argument he's building, piece by piece as each word registers and goes refiled into something that strikes him as correct, the basis of an answer written in seconds by a mind rocketing through its draft as it reads through the paper it's refuting, comes to a dizzy pause in construction as it snags on something.
He couldn't say exactly what did it. But by the time he's finished reading the last few words, there's a horrible clot nestled in behind his sternum, heavy with regret and what regret might make him do. ]
I didn't mean to do that.
[ He did. He did mean to do it. He'd fallen into it with an easy hunger. And if he doesn't go now, either he'll do it again, or— ]
I'm sorry, Clarke. I'll get in touch another time.
[ Or he won't do it again. And neither of those options are any more palatable than the other. ]