Samuel (voiceinthedark) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-11-19 17:56:00 |
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Current mood: | stressed |
Entry tags: | boden velmont |
Coming Up For Air
Of all the things to be scared of the last thing Boden thought he would be afraid of was a small black phone no larger than his palm, and yet he was totally and utterly petrified.
It wasn't his phone and yet every voice on the other end of the line spoke to him as if they knew him. They did in a way, but not in another. That Boden was... different, more well adjusted and according to the photographs scattered around the apartment part of a happy family.
It made his head hurt just thinking about it.
Boden was perched in a chair in the far corner of the room, eyes fixated on the ever vibrating ever moving phone that seemed determined to close the gap that seperated them. The glow was ominous as was that silent repetitive thrumming as every call and every text found itself greeting an answering service.
His thoughts had strayed to Mallory and he knew - how he knew he didn't know - that she was someplace else and so was he, continuing their journey and yet here he was worrying about her and about that dog she'd had with her.
Boden inhaled a breath and rocked forward onto the very tips of his toes, shifting his weight forward subtly as he pressed his fingertips together. His eyes watched the phone buzzing and he decided right there and then that he needed air and lots of it, as high as he could, he just needed away from that thing.
He closed a dark high collared jacket around himself and shoved both hands into the pockets, ducking out of the apartment to take long meaningful strides in the opposite direction.
Boden just needed some air, that was all.