Isabella Foster
I like a look of agony
because I know it's true
I
knew what I wanted and I was not afraid to take it.Well, not entirely afraid. I could not deny that there was something about that russet haired desert woman that left me with strange feelings and confused emotions. I have been thinking of her, often enough, I like to imagine she is wearing that head piece that I picked out for her. I imagine she catches glimpses of herself in the mirror and looks upon that head piece with remembrance, and imagines that I am there beside her. But I fear, not that she looks upon that headpiece in disdain, but that she looks at it and thinks nothing of me at all. Or, worse yet, she has taken that headpiece and placed it in the bottom of her jewelry box and its sits there even now, collecting dust. Each little piece of dust just a reminder that I am nothing more than a speck on her life.
Still.
She invited me to her party. Maybe she does not expect me to be just one speck, but two. I do not normally attend parties where I am not required. But here I am, standing outside the entrance of her home, here I am walking through the gates, and here I am walking through the doors.
I find her at her booth, there is a crowd gathered around, and maybe it speaks to my boldness around her, or my own entitlement, but I skip past the line and I am beside her in a heartbeat. “Truth or dare?” I say when I reach her side. “If you say truth I will ask if you are glad I came,” I say with something of a simper on my lips. “If you say dare—then I will dare you to show me just how glad you are that I’m here.” And that simper grows into a smirk. Steel grey finds her eyes of amber, and I try to hold her there, knowing that in holding a snake in such a way, I am promised to be bit.
picture colored by Elidhu
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