Re: On the train: The Schoolboy/The Witch
"You're one of the boys up the hill," she panted, still trying to hold onto these moments a little while longer. Their feet knew all the steps, but there was a sureness about them, that wasn't all her anymore. "Maybe not stuffy. Not anymore." Maybe he would sneak out one day, maybe she'd spot him at the Inn and they'd have this dance with a live band and the townsfolk all around them, clapping and stomping their feet for the beat.
She inhaled sharply as he said her name. "Oliver," she began to reply, her voice cracking on the word. Their voice now, Irish accent thick on the syllables. "I don't want to go." The music ended on a sharp note and she managed one last look before they were crossing between one another. His height, and then his broader shoulders and narrow frame. Her hair shortened into his auburn close cut hair and he was the one left standing there in his button down and trousers, blinking.