|James isn't the (coryphee) wrote in repose,|
@ 2017-05-11 21:59:00
|Entry tags:||*log, holly robinson, mbali jade watson|
Holly + MJ: moving into Clary House
[She didn't own a lot of stuff. She had cash, which was kind of better because cash was transportable and shit like bedsheets and towels and plants and dressers totally weren't. But if she had to skimp a little to begin with, like maybe leave the whole plants and dressers until later? That was cool, because this whole thing was so way better than the place the girl from work had taken her back to, which was cheap, sad-looking string lights and a bucket for the hole in the ceiling. It was cheap, which was kind of the point and the girls from work were super-nice but it wasn't four solid walls and normal and Holly? Kind of liked the idea of normal, just a little. Not enough to get boring, and not enough to squeeze it dry but normal when normal meant a bed that didn't involve someone's couch?
Totally okay. So she came with the rucksack with tape over the bottom trimmed down with Steph's scissors until it kind of looked like it was made that way, unless you saw the light make a difference between matte and the slick shine of the tape. Boots and neon shirt and denim cut-offs over tights and she had a key with her name on it. The bathroom door might stick but the front door didn't and she stood in the hall and let her bag slide down her shoulder to her feet, wild black curls and scrubbed-clean skin from the shower that morning and Holly was buoyant: Cat had shuffled the pieces together until they fit like a jigsaw or whatever, but Cat shuffling was so not a downside. It was kind of family and family was a renewed concept and Holly let the bag sit by the door as she headed to the foot of the stairs.]
Hi? [If the house was occupied? Wandering around felt a tiny bit like breaking in, instead of a key and that so wasn't a today kind of feeling.]