[ She won't tell him otherwise. Annie holds silent - and it's only because she doesn't derive pleasure in "I told you so"s. She can note the differences too... having seen him before and see how he cried, knowing the way he used to apologize. Her eyes narrow a fraction.
She's watching him now. That soft expression, the words he uses, the blanks that she can fill in...
Annie reaches out to place her hand over the top of his coffee. There's no black surface for him to stare down at. She's always had her own way of doing things, her own way to interface.
Right now, she waits for him to look her way. This is not a cafe's conversation. ]
no subject
She's watching him now. That soft expression, the words he uses, the blanks that she can fill in...
Annie reaches out to place her hand over the top of his coffee. There's no black surface for him to stare down at. She's always had her own way of doing things, her own way to interface.
Right now, she waits for him to look her way. This is not a cafe's conversation. ]