connie.

    feeling the hand grasp at her shoulder made her swiftly spin
    around. it was both of their places to apologize, but she didn’t
    want him to because it had always been her fault in the end. 
    some fault always found its way to her, even if the problem 
    didn’t sprout from her own hands in the beginning. he didn’t
    finish his sentence and she was about to ask him to finish it,
    but it’d be best to drop it since it seemed like he was trying to
    as well.

    “ sure. there’s not much to carry, “ her reply was short and 
    subtle as she began to walk back into harrison’s room. as 
    her son was still playing, she took him out of the room for
    a moment and knelt down to tell him what was happening.
    “ harrison, mommy and sam are going to put the paints in
    the kitchen, if you need them as me or sam. “ and harrison
    was to point out how his room wasn’t messy, but connie had
    quickly shushed him since that part was true and sam wasn’t
    to know.

       confidence is the only thing about him that wavers when it
       comes to connie. it most certainly isn’t a good thing. there
       have been words, or at least forms of thoughts he’s been
       meaning to lace together into a coherent whole, but, no matter
       how many times he’s assured, it seems, there’s no going to
       open up completely right then and there. so without much
       grace nor dignity left, sam scoops up whatever pieces were left
       & follows after her.

       he walks to the door, knocking before entering. he sees connie
       with her child, but still remains in the dark of the conversation
       that ensued between them right then before entering. “so, uh..
       what should i carry?” he offers a smile still tinged with awkwardness
       that had yet to wipe off.