He just loves the way her hands curl into tight little fist when she gets worked up. “… it’s seems like I’m the only one trying to make this into something…” she has this funny little habit of licking her lips in frantic sweeps from side to side as if she is trying to rub off her lips. Then she starts to pace around the empty space in the room. When her monologue gets intense enough, it makes no difference if anyone is listening, she escapes somewhere else too.
He spends a lot of time day dreaming where she goes. He wishes he could join her sometimes. They could skip along, hand in hand. He could never really know where she goes. She has good and bad days. Sometimes she thinks she’s invisible, or another life form sent to save humanity from public bathrooms. The episodes only get more and more complicated… as if she is building the coarsest road to her safe space. She stopped caring about her sanity a long time ago.
He would take anything she gave. He caught himself hazily staring at her again. He knows how much that infuriates her but he won’t stop himself, maybe just hide the smile on his face. He enjoys it way too much. The blow of her fist to the wall snapped him back to the present.
“I’m taking the whole goddamn block with me if I have to, so don’t get in my way!” She flings her long, black, witch hair over her shoulder and stomps off leaving the trail of her scent behind for him to wobble after her.