Work Text:
it was the rain that left adrift, dark splotches all over the wax-sealed envelope. chewed fingernails keeping a grasp on the letter.
it was her ivory skin that glistened with the morning's rainfall, she looked down at the paper between her fingertips, the ink beginning to bleed into the cream tint of the page.
"Clementine" it read distortedly.
within minutes the ink was sheltered from the rain by the inside of a post box and peach-toned ballet flats headed the opposite direction.
inside the small apartment the rain dulled down to a rhythmic muted tapping, it was the chipped wallpaper and closed wooden window frames separating the outside world.
music tones rain out well, outdoes it and distracts those previously enthralled by the gentle pattering on nearby glass. it's the welcoming crackling undertones of a record player that keep the emptiness of the apartment in check.
living with yourself and for yourself becomes almost a chore at times, so softening that pressure with a bouquet of white baby breaths for yourself every second week or eating at the table by a candle for one twice a week makes it seem less lonely.
and when a letter with "Clementine" arrives on your doorstep the next it tends to keep the lonliness at bay