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Oct. 2nd, 2006 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelley_wintersThe teaspoon makes a rhythmic clinking noise as the girl stirs slowly. Small splashes of hot tea cool on the table surface, and she either hasn't noticed or doesn't care. Her second clean dress that day is bunched up around her as she sits in the corner of the couch, bare feet tucked under her.
She takes a sip. At the edge of her vision, she can see the small spots of red that have appeared through the bandage around her arm. No more, though. No more.
The tea doesn't taste of anything, so she puts it down, moody. After a moment, a small finger begins to trace patterns on the tabletop from the wet patch.
She takes a sip. At the edge of her vision, she can see the small spots of red that have appeared through the bandage around her arm. No more, though. No more.
The tea doesn't taste of anything, so she puts it down, moody. After a moment, a small finger begins to trace patterns on the tabletop from the wet patch.
