connie.

    “ SAM!! “ she had shouted, but had then silenced herself. 
    yelling at him would hurt herself and obviously won’t fix
    anything. though, his the constant questions that were
    being thrown at her were making her even more nervous.
    now with just a little bit of red residue on her face, she 
    remained lingering over the sink trying to grab her own
    thoughts, shaky hands holding her up.

    “ sam, sometimes children don’t have a really good aim. 
    maybe he intended it to be my whole body, but he only
    caught this part of my face. “ she still didn’t look at him
    and remained hiding behind her hair. 

     he doesn’t realize just how close he is to the line separating
     what’s okay & what’s not, or how his foot is just a step away
     from unhinging the normalcy connie tethered herself to. she
     looks so different now: the shakiness, the lack of wanting to
     make eye-contact, even with the curtain of hair she hides
     herself behind.

     maybe he did go overboard. he’s just worried. & with
     connie’s attempt to paint an answer, it looked more
     forged than anything.

      he walks closer, though not close enough to make her
      uneasier than she already was. “if it’s just paint, then
      why won’t you look at me? i want to see,” but she won’t
      allow him.