Farris is hot on my heels.
I know then that she’ll never be coming home.
Her hand trembles under mine, like I am a monster.
‘I just want to go home, Sophie.’
She always says she wants to go home.
I know she wishes to be at there,
a threadbare armchair, with bare legs
let’s not sadden ourselves.
Her attempt at conversation shrivels up in this toxic atmosphere
Nana won’t eat her chocolate bar.
Farris stands up and so do I.
A sense of dread fills me, drowns me; I don’t know what is going on but I know it will be bad.
Mum sits at the table with her face pressed her into Dad’s chest.
like a man knows trying to overcome tears.
lhighton wrote: it's weird when you dislike your own creation, isn't it?
Quote:
let’s not sadden ourselves.
This bit of dialogue seems a bit dated, I thought the person speaking was fairly young. If you think about actually saying something like this in conversation it seems a little odd, doesn't it?