Jun. 17th, 2010

tezcatl_ipoca: (50s: pensive window)
Late March 1953

It's one of those perfect early spring days, the sky that bright light blue and warmth in the sun at last. March is definitely going out like a lamb this year, and we have the window in the train compartment open, letting in the smell of the country.

It's so queer to be making this familiar journey with Al. I've been pointing things out through the window as we get close - the ruins of the castle, the chalk carving on the hillside, the field where they found the Roman villa last summer, still patterned with string fences. But I'm starting to feel a little nervous now, because - well. Al and my parents. And my house is hardly like his house, is it?

We're alone in the carriage, sitting next to each other, and I put my hand briefly on his knee to reassure myself.

[Open to Al]

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tezcatl_ipoca

September 2010

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