just shy of arrogant
“It’s just shy of arrogant,” she said with a smile, motioning to the previous comment she had made, invisible to her left, with the slight tilt of her head. “But,” she said, eyes wide with a dramatic pause, then a giggle, “who’d stop me if I was?” Her thoughts fluttered with foreseeable collateral damage. The character, the image, the people. Would suit them all just as color at a funeral. So she picked blue. Blue hats and blue skies, and did Madrid have blue skies? She didn’t think it could be cloudy there.
The town was too small for the girl. The city, too big. Eye contact a feat, but blue eyes, too easy to see through. Her current nightmare was the dream she once had coming true. It was not a terrible thing in any such way, just the kind of night terror where when you wake the next morning, you blink a couple times in confusion and then go to brush your teeth. “My god I had such a weird dream…do you want coffee?”
And though she was laying down, she was not actually asleep to then wake up and make coffee. Her back was beating her down. “Any back pain?” “No,” she laid her head against the wooden frame, smoothly turning it all the way to her left side, with a smirk drawing across her lips, eyes lifting upwards, “But now yes.” And yet when he knelt to draw her blood, she could only look down. His necklace, what was the pendant? Some silver something. Another silver something. Two pendants. He was younger than her but taller than the mountains.