Charlotte Belanger Laveau can read your soul. (cajunoracle) wrote in midway_ic, @ 2012-05-24 22:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | charlotte laveau, jimmy crowley, week one |
{ W h o } Charlotte and open!
{ W h a t } Early morning cigarette.
{ W h e n } Thursday, just after dawn.
{ W h e r e } Outside of her trailer.
{ R a t i n g } PG-13?
{ S t a t u s } In progress.
This was Charlotte's favorite time of day. It was calm, quiet. The newly risen sun had begun spilling its warmth across the fairgrounds. It was still cool, but it promised to be a warm late May day. The sounds of people stirring from the tents and trailers wouldn't start for another half hour or so yet. Everything seemed right in the world, and Charlotte felt most at peace during these early hours. She felt centered.
As soon as the caravan had stopped on Tuesday, she set up her trailer in the usual fashion. There was a round, small, worn wooden table she had salvaged from one of her first stops with the circus. Charlotte put that outside her door, along with two mismatched chairs. She preferred to spend her free time there when the weather was nice. It allowed her to people watch and invited conversation and visits from passing carnies. Charlotte was known for almost always having a bottle of hooch and almost always being willing to share, so there was hardly a time when she didn't have a visitor. Now, though, no one else was awake as far as she could tell.
Charlotte chose a cigarette from her fabric case; it had certainly seen better days and had started to fray. She would need a new one soon. Tossing the used match aside, Charlotte took a long drag, savoring the taste before exhaling. She leaned against her trailer. The cool metal was still dappled with dew. The condensation easily soaked through the shoulders of her gauzy bathrobe. Sighing, she closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her skin.