Re: log: joey & ella, gatsby
She knew the difficulty of making decisions for the first time by yourself. The first time she'd signed her name without certainty she remained who she was, paid a bill, nursed a baby through feverish late nights: all the countless moments in which you were sure only of your loneliness in making a call that could be wrong, could be right, could be impossible. She hadn't made a whole lot out of Julliard and an education but a tangle, something lost in the void of the hotel's greedy appetite.
"Iris got broken," she said, quiet as a mouse sat beside him in borrowed blue, because anyone could see it, all those jagged edges. No one hid behind locked doors in their own house, lest they were afraid of nothing more than their own shadow and all children grew up to learn how not to fear. "The man she was with," a pause, the hairslides glittered like lies, "Was horrible. Real nasty but he talked like he loved her. Love can do a whole lot to make things seem okay when they're not."
She put a hand on his shoulder, small and quiet and calm because she saw him bite down on his cheek like he was trying to swallow words whole. "You're doing fine. I meant what you wanted to do. If you had anything you ever thought of wanting, that maybe you could try out."