02-16-2008, 05:43 PM
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indent Ahren’s hands shook still, but the right, the one not holding the cigarette, began to scratch at his side. It was subconscious because he felt dirty, he felt wrong. He inhaled and curled his toes, unable to remember much of anything (because you can’t or because you don’t want to?) and unwilling to try. It had happened. He knew that. The scent was as unmistakable as it had been with Kaena, Matinee, Poe…had there been more? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything.
indent For a long time, he stayed quiet, drawing his strength from the cigarette.
“So what now?” He heard himself ask this, wonder what exactly he meant, and wished he could have taken it back. This was wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. Ahren shuddered once, and kept his gaze out at nothing in particular
indent For a long time, he stayed quiet, drawing his strength from the cigarette.
“So what now?” He heard himself ask this, wonder what exactly he meant, and wished he could have taken it back. This was wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. Ahren shuddered once, and kept his gaze out at nothing in particular