Denial before Surrender
The carnival was worse once you got inside.
Not in a bad way exactly. Just overwhelming. Too much light, too much sound, too many smells all fighting for space at once. Fried dough, popcorn, damp grass, hot grease, metal, cheap body spray. Games lined one side in a bright row of scam and desperation. Rides crowded the other, all spinning arms and blinking signs and music playing over music until none of it sounded like a real song anymore.
Clair seemed delighted by all of it. She dragged me first toward the stalls, then toward a row of food stands because “looking cute is hard work,” then back toward the rides because she wanted to “see what had the best lighting for photos.”
Chapitres populaires