[ her glare follows him as he moves into the kitchen, but for once, she listens, sitting down in one of the dining chairs. she blames it her swollen belly-- invulnerable though she might be, and as physically strong as she is, pregnancy is nothing to scoff at. still, the anger lingers in her face. some days anger comes as naturally to her as breathing, and it's hard to tell which one she needs more. anger protects her.
but anger can't cure the tightness in her chest or the knot in her stomach. she runs her fingers impatiently through her hair. she needs to get it together. she can't be like this, she just can't. and she hears what he's saying, maybe even believes it, that he just can't give her what she wants, but without really knowing why, she still opens her mouth on futile, frustrated words: ]
no subject
but anger can't cure the tightness in her chest or the knot in her stomach. she runs her fingers impatiently through her hair. she needs to get it together. she can't be like this, she just can't. and she hears what he's saying, maybe even believes it, that he just can't give her what she wants, but without really knowing why, she still opens her mouth on futile, frustrated words: ]
Stay with me.