Re: Quicklog, Motel: Hannah S/Reece E
[Hannah talked. She always talked, and she knew it was too much sometimes, but she was like a river flowing and she couldn't stop it. She hadn't learned the art of hush and quiet and be. She just saw unhappiness, and she didn't know what love felt like; to her it was all really simple. If you're unhappy, you leave, and maybe someday she would understand that it wasn't like that at all. And she knew she didn't comprehend, so she let him talk, and she didn't take it personally at all. He was feeling things, and she was just sitting there and trying to make sense of it all, and she listened and learned and her gears twirled and twirled and twirled.] I don't know what it feels like, but maybe I will one day.
[She didn't ask anything else. She watched and watched he typed, and she just stared a little too intensely with cornflower eyes careful and attentive and attentive and more. He apologized, and it was okay, and she gave him a smile that was sweet and genuine.] Don't feel bad. It's okay. I was here before, and I'll still be here after. Okay, we'll do something next time. I hope your night gets better, Reece.
[She slipped off the bed like ghosts in stories where they glided soundlessly, and she opened the motel door for him with all the formality of one of the old romances she liked to read.] Goodnight. Feel better. Don't drive. [The last bit was teasing. She didn't expect him to drive at all, and she just smiled as she leaned against the door and twisted the knob in her palm.
Once he was gone, she closed the door and leaned back against it for a few seconds, tick and tock and time slipped, and then she returned to Dorothy and Toto and the wonders of the wonderful Oz.]