[ Slowly but smoothly, the way wire cuts through butter, the red to her thoughts shutters and then blinks out completely, like a candle snuffed by a pinch of fingers. The red of her hair against her skin and the bathroom tile is too dark to look like blood and there's a strange feeling to the way her thoughts seem to settle, like the way tumblers fall into place inside a lock, sliding into order. (Damage control inside your own head is never a quick job.)
She breathes in, then out. Steady inhales and exhales of breath and, eventually, her eyes open, her smile not-quite matching his, but an attempt all the same.
Thank you, says the thought, even if her mouth doesn't. ]
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She breathes in, then out. Steady inhales and exhales of breath and, eventually, her eyes open, her smile not-quite matching his, but an attempt all the same.
Thank you, says the thought, even if her mouth doesn't. ]