[ The hand on Cadence stays even through applause after the lovers’ song ends. Clay lightly taps his thigh with the other hand, in a polite acknowledgment to the cacophony below them. He looks at Cadence, an eyebrow raising above the crease of his mild concern; a silent inquiry should she choose meet his gaze.
It was, of course, like it never happened. And maybe it didn’t- he reasons. Perhaps he was caught up in the scene below and in that mistook her shoulders straightening up, and only imagined the way her eyes lost focus for a moment, in his periphery. But he still tried to place any reason for her to be discomfit.
Oblivious to her past- as she wanted it to this point- he speculates silently over the clapping. He wonders if it was a previous show, long ago, that made her react. Or maybe something closer to her personal experiences.
(With a lack of any conceptual fathom of how close.) ]
no subject
It was, of course, like it never happened. And maybe it didn’t- he reasons. Perhaps he was caught up in the scene below and in that mistook her shoulders straightening up, and only imagined the way her eyes lost focus for a moment, in his periphery. But he still tried to place any reason for her to be discomfit.
Oblivious to her past- as she wanted it to this point- he speculates silently over the clapping. He wonders if it was a previous show, long ago, that made her react. Or maybe something closer to her personal experiences.
(With a lack of any conceptual fathom of how close.) ]