Also a fragment
May. 13th, 2004 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
melwilI found this on my computer today. I can't even remember writing it . . . looks like my writing though *g*
Her father smiled at her, a polite impersonal smile telling her everything she needed to know. It was a smile for someone else, except he thought the someone else was her. It was a smile that slashed and cut and dug deep into a part of herself she thought she'd buried away.
She was losing him.
It was a thought that both ripped and comforted, all in some terrible, uneven order. It gave her the ability to be reckless . . .
“Walk slow, Claudia, you'll slip around the corners on those shoes. Think about what you say, think about what your words do to other people. Don't rush into things you don't understand.”
The warnings faded and receded and she slept with a convicted felon who used to have a mohawk.
She played Danny, even though she was wading in head first. She played him because he was playing her and it just couldn't operate that way. Danny needed to play by her rules.
She sat in her apartment and stared at closed blinds, her television regurgitating news behind her. She watched the sunrises she never saw and wondered why she was always playing it safe, wondered why she was too scared . . .
She watched the President and Leo and knew they had the secrets that she needed to know. She played by their rules, because that was what was needed at the time, but she thought about a time when she would just be able to turn and walk away. She wondered what fireworks she would be able to set off before she went.
She told Leo that she wasn't his daughter, because maybe it would be better if she wasn't in Washington at all.
Her father smiled at her, a polite impersonal smile telling her everything she needed to know. It was a smile for someone else, except he thought the someone else was her. It was a smile that slashed and cut and dug deep into a part of herself she thought she'd buried away.
She was losing him.
It was a thought that both ripped and comforted, all in some terrible, uneven order. It gave her the ability to be reckless . . .
“Walk slow, Claudia, you'll slip around the corners on those shoes. Think about what you say, think about what your words do to other people. Don't rush into things you don't understand.”
The warnings faded and receded and she slept with a convicted felon who used to have a mohawk.
She played Danny, even though she was wading in head first. She played him because he was playing her and it just couldn't operate that way. Danny needed to play by her rules.
She sat in her apartment and stared at closed blinds, her television regurgitating news behind her. She watched the sunrises she never saw and wondered why she was always playing it safe, wondered why she was too scared . . .
She watched the President and Leo and knew they had the secrets that she needed to know. She played by their rules, because that was what was needed at the time, but she thought about a time when she would just be able to turn and walk away. She wondered what fireworks she would be able to set off before she went.
She told Leo that she wasn't his daughter, because maybe it would be better if she wasn't in Washington at all.
