Re: Quicklog: Marina S & Shane A
[She was the same as two hours earlier, except that the television was whispering some Frank Sinatra Christmas special rerun, the kind of thing that they did for cable some fifty years after the fact. She wore red still, festive enough although the tinsel of her scarf was gone. Bluejeans and no shoes, and Marina backed away from the door like the guilty letting a cop in, the kind of guilty who didn't give a fuck about warrants anymore, just fuck it.
The Christmas tree wasn't on fire(yet). It was lights and silver tinsel and had a small trio of presents under the tree. The rest of the unwrapped presents crowded the couch, a couple hundred dollars worth of unwrapped toys. On the floor, on the other side of the coffee table in the living room, there was a long strand of rumpled wrapping paper. It looked like somebody had stomped on it or fucked on it, or just kicked it around forever.
Marina poured some merlot into a clean glass, and it was in her hand when she hugged him through the doorway(smelling like exotic spice, smoked tea, and pine from the tree). She sniffed and held tight with one arm. Sometimes it felt like he was the only one to every do shit for her, and she wasn't always good with that kind of thing. But wine made it easier, she she knocked him against the doorjamb so that whatever he had in the bag rattled. Then she backed away and gestured inside where lights were string up fucking everywhere and the tree was still standing.]