Ivan Marmeladov (uppercutter) wrote in midway_ic, @ 2011-10-03 17:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | gil godwin, walt schmidt, week 8 |
{ W h o } Walt and Gil.
{ W h a t } Rain showers.
{ W h e r e } Boston, Mass.
{ W h e n } Wednesday
{ R a t i n g } PG for them swears
{ S t a t u s } Complete
He should have felt it when he got up that morning and noticed how overcast it was. Light rain showers always seemed to take him by surprise. When Walt felt the first few flecks of water hit his face, the world seemed to blur out, all of his attention focusing in on those millimeter wide spots, cold and wet against his flesh.
There were things to do. In fact, he'd been in the middle of something, but the importance of it was suddenly lost on him. What had he been doing in the first place? He wandered away from his workbench as the rain grew into a steady rhythm. He stood there, blinking water out of his eyes, watching as others moved into their trailers and out of the rain.
Blue eyes looked down at his feet, watching with detached interest as they toed out of his shoes seemingly of their own accord. His hands were moving, similarly independent of his brain, fingers pulling off his socks. His soles touched down against the wet grass. His toes squirmed against the cool dampness. His legs worked, carrying him away, the rest of his body along for the ride.
Walt weaved through the trailers, not even sure of where he was going. He kept walking until he'd passed the very last trailer, wandering out into the fields. He spread his arms, fingers splayed, feeling the tops of the tall grass as his body moved through them.