"Mira, what are you doing?"
She looked up, her back straightening from the hunch she'd been in for who knew how long and she turned her head over her shoulder to look at Ty. Her brow arched at him and her eyes dashed between what she'd been looking at and back to him, the brow saying it should be obvious.
He rolled his eyes and stepped down the two rough steps into the window encased space and toward her. His hand slid to her neck and shoulders, instantly starting to rub out the tension there from her awkward posture.
She closed her eyes and let out a small satisfied groan as a knot melted away. "That's nice." She shifted slightly under his hands to direct him to the next tight spot and heard him let out a huffing chuckle.
They were both quiet for several minutes until she let out a contented sigh and finally opened her eyes again, his hands going still. Her face turned up to him from where she'd stayed seated on a stool. "Something smells good."
He shrugged, "Cinnamon rolls."
Her grin pulled a smile from the face she loved that had been too often drawn in sadness or distress of late.
Her hand slipped in to his and he looked down at her from where his eyes had been directed toward the windows, but not necessarily seeing anything until her smile.
His smile didn't last though, slipping from his face like ice cream down a cone on a hot July day. Her own smile melted with his and he started to turn away until she tugged his hand and pressed it to her stomach. His eyes welled but he sniffed and blinked them away.
"What does any of it matter now Mira?" His voice came out strained and quiet and quavering.
She took a breath and stood up, "I choose to believe that something will remain, and just maybe we'll get to be part of it, or he will. Even if that chance is slim, even if none of us make it, but someone does, I am going to choose to believe it all matters." She reached up and put a gentle hand on his face, "You asked me what I was doing?"
She glanced back at what she'd been working on and back to him, "Creating, with all my heart. It may be the only thing left that really does matter."
She looked up, her back straightening from the hunch she'd been in for who knew how long and she turned her head over her shoulder to look at Ty. Her brow arched at him and her eyes dashed between what she'd been looking at and back to him, the brow saying it should be obvious.
He rolled his eyes and stepped down the two rough steps into the window encased space and toward her. His hand slid to her neck and shoulders, instantly starting to rub out the tension there from her awkward posture.
She closed her eyes and let out a small satisfied groan as a knot melted away. "That's nice." She shifted slightly under his hands to direct him to the next tight spot and heard him let out a huffing chuckle.
They were both quiet for several minutes until she let out a contented sigh and finally opened her eyes again, his hands going still. Her face turned up to him from where she'd stayed seated on a stool. "Something smells good."
He shrugged, "Cinnamon rolls."
Her grin pulled a smile from the face she loved that had been too often drawn in sadness or distress of late.
Her hand slipped in to his and he looked down at her from where his eyes had been directed toward the windows, but not necessarily seeing anything until her smile.
His smile didn't last though, slipping from his face like ice cream down a cone on a hot July day. Her own smile melted with his and he started to turn away until she tugged his hand and pressed it to her stomach. His eyes welled but he sniffed and blinked them away.
"What does any of it matter now Mira?" His voice came out strained and quiet and quavering.
She took a breath and stood up, "I choose to believe that something will remain, and just maybe we'll get to be part of it, or he will. Even if that chance is slim, even if none of us make it, but someone does, I am going to choose to believe it all matters." She reached up and put a gentle hand on his face, "You asked me what I was doing?"
She glanced back at what she'd been working on and back to him, "Creating, with all my heart. It may be the only thing left that really does matter."