Re: Webster's Vinyl: Harper L & Ceil L
I'm not. [She knew he wouldn't believe her, but it wasn't in her to just admit to the change he insisted occurred. Admitting it to him, it was the same as finally admitting it to herself. Repose was the promise of forgetting, of returning to the simplicity of before, and so she didn't agree with him. There was no defiant or stubborn lift of her chin, no childish tantrum is disagreeing. She just spoke the two words, and then she looked him over in return. Ceil was gone now, dutifully off to collect scones, each footstep a thing of oblivious bliss, and Harper was glad of it when the door's bells jingled behind sister's innocence.] But you are. Different. Aren't you?
Her dark eyes were wise in her face, too wise, haunted, a thing shuttered and, yes, different from before.]