Re: Airstream: Amy/Si
Hannah felt anger in gleaming sparks, but they never stayed. She'd always been like that. She could spike, but it never, ever lasted. She'd watched him kick furniture and storm, and she'd sat on her bed in their shared room and just watched until he had burned out enough to talk to. Now, now, she knew, he wasn't burned out enough for clarity. She could feel it coming off him in waves, near and suffocating in the tiny airstream. As a result, her touch to the skin beneath his eyes lingered slow and dragging as she watched his jaw clench.
She looked back at him when his eyes opened. Cocked head and maintaining eye contact, and it was as if she was trying to find what was inside him and pull him out. As if looking and looking could make her understand what was really going on with him. Her legs weren't swinging anymore. "You can smoke, but you didn't answer," she told him unnecessarily. He knew he hadn't answered, not with words. "I can't tell if you're mad at David, or if there's more. Is there more?" And Hannah didn't smoke, and Amy hadn't smoked, but she liked the smell of the burning paper and the tobacco. She always had liked it, from back when they were young and Si had started smoking with the window open and their dad too caught up in pretending to say anything about it. She leaned a little closer and inhaled, and then she sat back with memory painting a smile on her lips.