It's not the manliest of tunes that starts to wriggle its way into his ear and then into the base of his skull, but it's an effective tune nonetheless. He doesn't even think much of it, despite the strange twitch in his toes and the impatient wriggle in his fingers. It feels like when he was eight years old and had accidentally had some caffeine. He laid in bed for hours and hours with a feeling like insects in his legs, his muscles twitching and aching and burning and yearning all at once somehow. His mind had been no better. It's like that, only it's ..
Different.
It isn't the TV static that he'd felt in his legs that fateful evening. It isn't that pork-rinds-crackling firing off in his brain like fireworks. It's .. softer. It's the smell of coffee and bacon cooking in the morning. It's the gentle urge of feet down the stairs towards the kitchen at the warmth and sustenance promised. It's the thrill of a lover's touch on the inside of the wrist, tiptoeing a path to the bedroom.
And for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of five minutes, Major mumbles to himself in song:
"So call me maybe .. Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad," completely ignoring the fact that it's impossible to miss someone before you know them. He's so focused that he doesn't feel the water at his ankles, then at his knees, then at his waist. He doesn't seem to notice the way the ground falls out from underneath his feet as he goes deeper and deeper still. He doesn't even seem to notice that his mouth is filling with water, until suddenly --
He does, and no matter how he tries, he can't seem to do a damn thing to save himself.
Major Lilywhite | OTA
And this is crazy ..
It's not the manliest of tunes that starts to wriggle its way into his ear and then into the base of his skull, but it's an effective tune nonetheless. He doesn't even think much of it, despite the strange twitch in his toes and the impatient wriggle in his fingers. It feels like when he was eight years old and had accidentally had some caffeine. He laid in bed for hours and hours with a feeling like insects in his legs, his muscles twitching and aching and burning and yearning all at once somehow. His mind had been no better. It's like that, only it's ..
Different.
It isn't the TV static that he'd felt in his legs that fateful evening. It isn't that pork-rinds-crackling firing off in his brain like fireworks. It's .. softer. It's the smell of coffee and bacon cooking in the morning. It's the gentle urge of feet down the stairs towards the kitchen at the warmth and sustenance promised. It's the thrill of a lover's touch on the inside of the wrist, tiptoeing a path to the bedroom.
And for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of five minutes, Major mumbles to himself in song:
"So call me maybe .. Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad," completely ignoring the fact that it's impossible to miss someone before you know them. He's so focused that he doesn't feel the water at his ankles, then at his knees, then at his waist. He doesn't seem to notice the way the ground falls out from underneath his feet as he goes deeper and deeper still. He doesn't even seem to notice that his mouth is filling with water, until suddenly --
He does, and no matter how he tries, he can't seem to do a damn thing to save himself.