She had been taught to think under fire, taught to work through pain and she called on every lesson she housed inside herself in that moment to continue methodically working through his hair. It was the sort of conversation that might’ve driven her to stand in front of him, might’ve driven her to take his hand if he were the sort to allow it or she the sort to offer, but that was the case for neither of them. For all she instinctively knew the fit of his body inside hers like a hand in a glove, there was a gulf between them now. He was not hers to touch, to comfort, or even really know, if he didn’t want it.
“I don’t know what they did exactly, no,” she said as she moved on to one side of his head and snipped the first strand of hair so that it lay against his cheek. She could look at his face in profile then, but she very carefully did not. The retelling of one’s personal war stories was not the time for intimacy. “I’ve been able to piece it together a good deal of it, though. With time. The longer I was away from them, the clearer things became. Is it that way for you?”
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Date: 2014-09-05 05:20 am (UTC)“I don’t know what they did exactly, no,” she said as she moved on to one side of his head and snipped the first strand of hair so that it lay against his cheek. She could look at his face in profile then, but she very carefully did not. The retelling of one’s personal war stories was not the time for intimacy. “I’ve been able to piece it together a good deal of it, though. With time. The longer I was away from them, the clearer things became. Is it that way for you?”