"Pills.."
"Pills..."
"He eats them?!"
I slapped my head, for the slip of words. Because neither did I want Frankie whose head was smoking up while staring at those new papers nor Feran, who was happy with Gidgus being let inside after Mrs Heather's request, to hear.
"I really hope you know I'm the bride of the house", her tone at the art room was clear with the help of those invaluable echoes, travelling at a super gait to reach the three of us at the pantry cabin.
The words lingered in my head, along with so much I didn't want to know.
"Pills...he takes them.."
My hair strands tugged at my fingers,
"Help me...Lord..", I wanted to zoom out of this space. Be to myself. Be clean and safe with myself. Why worry about him? I kept myself pained with the question.
Ofcourse, I loved him.
