Contagious drabbling
Oct. 4th, 2003 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elabyA 100-word piece conspicuously inspired by what I'm listening to now...
The light is orange with the tint of sunset.
Airess is five years old. Her hair is shoulder-length and wavy - it would straighten at puberty. She zigzags, running, through the shadow of her father walking before her. Her arms are filled with wildflowers. He turns, waits, puts his fingers on her shoulder to keep her close.
It's darker but still tinged orange, and she's sitting inside with him. She's on a high stool, dangling legs in buckle shoes and white stockings. He shows her how to play string games with colorful yarn.
"I'm going to be like you, Dad."
The light is orange with the tint of sunset.
Airess is five years old. Her hair is shoulder-length and wavy - it would straighten at puberty. She zigzags, running, through the shadow of her father walking before her. Her arms are filled with wildflowers. He turns, waits, puts his fingers on her shoulder to keep her close.
It's darker but still tinged orange, and she's sitting inside with him. She's on a high stool, dangling legs in buckle shoes and white stockings. He shows her how to play string games with colorful yarn.
"I'm going to be like you, Dad."
