Stripped-Down III

Padding down the stairs as though the price of being caught was her very life, Blue peered around the corner. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t wished Vincent would be sitting at the table as he had been that fateful day before. His shoulders would be squared. Mouth set in the same firm line, curling at the edges like kindled parchment. Eyes so sharp and dark she could swear he’d silently planned to kill them all for spare change. Staring at her longingly. Gaze as warm as it had been gawking at her wrapped in his bedsheets.

Her coffee hadn’t kept her full quite as long as she’d hoped. Blue had planned to eat with Anya after her parents had gone to bed—something she had quite often. Yet the smell of the cheap burrito she’d eaten with Vincent lingered on her breath. Each exhale made her stomach roar. Fate was a cruel mistress.

Meeting the gaze of her waiting mother planted rather stiffly at the dining table, Blue hadn’t the same sorrow