[She feels it, too, that pang of— something. Something so real it might as well be regret. Might as well be her loss.
Again.
But she never grieved. Not once. Not now. And she isn't certain if her grip is tightening against Taylor or Delta but it doesn't much matter in the moment: little glimpses of what it might be like to know too much about the absence of life. Nothingness.
Her calling card, and her antithesis.]
All right.
[Serious for once when she says it. Every ounce the woman behind the facade, so quiet it seems like someone else compared to the bright, hungry little thing she pretends to be. Or that she is. The line's so blurred, she never stopped to check.]
no subject
Again.
But she never grieved. Not once. Not now. And she isn't certain if her grip is tightening against Taylor or Delta but it doesn't much matter in the moment: little glimpses of what it might be like to know too much about the absence of life. Nothingness.
Her calling card, and her antithesis.]
All right.
[Serious for once when she says it. Every ounce the woman behind the facade, so quiet it seems like someone else compared to the bright, hungry little thing she pretends to be. Or that she is. The line's so blurred, she never stopped to check.]