red sweden // fridae & lore
Feb 9, 2021 21:12:54 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2021 21:12:54 GMT -5
l o r r a i n e
Honestly, I sleep a little too comfortably here. There's something home-y with it, it might just be the memory foam but my body fits right in place with it, I set the walls to the skyscrapers and imagine I'm at the top of the tower. The air conditioner is the wind outside, I breathe it in and out like nicotine and I can watch the night sky from the white satin sheets.
A year ago, a different girl slept in that spot and died in the snow. If I had to pick I would choose the tropics, somewhere warm, where the air is clear. I feel like most kids would agree, especially the polluted districts; eight and nine, we're used to the smoke sticking to our skin in pockets. The way it clings to your hair and eyes and it feels like my body just got wrung through an oil diffuser being here. My skin's smoother than it's ever been, eyes that don't burn and I rub them out of instinct at this point.
Not out of necessity, not out of smoke burns.
But out of fuckin' shock, "sis, what the hell is wrong with your face?" Holy shit. I can barely step into the training center without getting caught off guard -- maybe it's my fault for not talking to everybody day one. Last night I had looked forward, kept my eyes on Kyler's head as we boarded the elevators, but this morning I'm staring district nine female in the face and "get mugged on the train ride here? Goddamn," those poor stylists.
So much for solidarity. Nine's been on the backburner for twenty years and I ain't feeling too threatened this year either, make up and canned charisma can't save a broken mug. I shiver looking at her, surprised she's even in good enough condition to be here; only thing I can hope for is that I don't look like that in a week's time. Maybe that's just me being shallow but damn.
The second my nose is broken, I'm raising my white flag.