claire dearing is an olympic sprinter (heels) wrote in witchinghour,
Pasta, cheese, carbs, cheese, veggies, more cheese. Claire was in a little slice of pseudo-Italian food heaven, and she did her best to eat like a lady, to chew every bite twenty-eight times, but it was difficult when you were that hungry and, oh yes, just remembered that it had been some time since you actually enjoyed dinner. Mmmmm. No awkward moaning at the table either.
"Oh, yes, me and Karen, we had all sorts of snow fun growing up," she said, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "Well, sort of. I would only go out if I was completely sealed off from getting coldness anywhere - I didn't want to get sick or anything. But I have been known to build a snowman or two in my day." It was said with a proud smirk, since there were probably pictures of their attempts. "The best was when the snow kept us home from school."
It was nice, having a sister. Claire found that she missed Karen at times, and they'd drifted more than they should have - there was nothing to do about it now, but still. It was a hollow ache sometimes, something she hoped she could right whenever she got out of here.