Scenes from a Marriage, 1973
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she sees him pause, feels the rustle of his coat making contact with her shoulder as he leans near. her eyes slip closed, because 1) she isn’t a psychopath, and 2) this isn’t the first time she’s been kissed, even if it feels like, even if it’s years now that her body and heart have operated in isolation, sustained themselves as the island she believes herself destined to be.
beneath fluttering eyelids, a montage like a flash flood, all the ways that they have danced around each other. stolen glances during briefings, his requests that she join for cases that bore her no relevance. a coffee order she had no right to remember. a bouquet on her birthday : his initials, no note. a helping hand with her jacket. a dozen flirtations in smokey bars and hotel lobbies . . .
@mahonne —– leans in, kisses her lips
she can’t believe he’s kissing her. she can’t believe it took him this long.
the world sways. slows. stops. she shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine. ( or, perhaps, should have had a few more so she wouldn’t be so nervous. this isn’t the first time she’s been kissed. )
unpainted nails find the lapel of his coat and hold on, feel beneath it the sturdiness of his chest. dana anchors herself to it, to HIM, the very cause of her unmooring. inhales through her nose to delay breaking from him, deepens the exchange for the same reason. how delightful it is to explore that which she has admired, herself finally found to be worthy substitute for a coffee cup, a beer bottle, a cigarette. how unexpected, how longed for, how fulfilling, how overwhelming . . . increasingly breathless, the contradictions of alex mahone wash over her in waves anew.
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a companion sideblog. this space is meant for aesthetics purposes only. all rp interactions will happen on #𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑭𝑰𝑪.
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