T
Trae Markwood
Guest
"It's almost over now, Sweet." Soft and tender, Trae cooed as she held the strands of long black hair in her left hand lovingly. In her right she gripped a weathered and cracked oak handle hairbrush made from porcupine quills. Gently, she gripped a handful holding it in place as she ran the quills through the strands. There hadn't been a tangle to speak of since her arrival.
"What do you think of the peach lace?" Liquid brown, Paytience eyes remained fixated on an unknown horizon. Trae simply smiled and set the brush to the side before taking the strands at either side of her friends face and pulled them back behind her head where she began to intertwine them. "Maybe with the chocolate colored dress?"
Easy, the conversation progressed as though the silence were accentuated with comments from the woman in the chair. Words were heard, even if only air existed as it was breathed in and out."You'll need the flats of course. You've been off heels for awhile. You remember the stairs in Britain?" Laughter echoed in the room. "I don't think your Mother ever got over the shock of seeing you in a heap on her prized Poodle. Yes, I know it was Jamison's fault but really, you've never been very good on heels."
As she last piece of jet black was wrapped around and under, a low melodic tone filled the space between them as Trae's hand came to rest on Paytience shoulder, pulling her closeto rock her gently.
"What do you think of the peach lace?" Liquid brown, Paytience eyes remained fixated on an unknown horizon. Trae simply smiled and set the brush to the side before taking the strands at either side of her friends face and pulled them back behind her head where she began to intertwine them. "Maybe with the chocolate colored dress?"
Easy, the conversation progressed as though the silence were accentuated with comments from the woman in the chair. Words were heard, even if only air existed as it was breathed in and out."You'll need the flats of course. You've been off heels for awhile. You remember the stairs in Britain?" Laughter echoed in the room. "I don't think your Mother ever got over the shock of seeing you in a heap on her prized Poodle. Yes, I know it was Jamison's fault but really, you've never been very good on heels."
As she last piece of jet black was wrapped around and under, a low melodic tone filled the space between them as Trae's hand came to rest on Paytience shoulder, pulling her closeto rock her gently.
"Spinnin', laughing, Dancing..
To her favorite song.
A little girl with nothing wrong.
Is all alone."
"Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And she'll sing her song to anyone
That comes along"
Always hoping for the sun
And she'll sing her song to anyone
That comes along"
As the lyrics finished, she closed her eyes. "Never alone." A hushed whisper.. the song began again...
*Lyrics.. are from Norah Jones- Seven Years as that is what I think of when I write this.*