Post by Alexandra Foster on Nov 15, 2007 17:17:48 GMT
I walk a little self-consciously into the otherwise empty room, not sure if I should be here right now... or at all. I didn't really know him all that well - just a random, rather decent-looking, descent sort of guy who helped me organize one of the biggest inter-House gatherings I'd ever seen or heard of. Which is rather sad, really, in a variety of ways.
But the image that won't get out of my head, the one that means 'Rowan' to me - just like Chance is represented by dryly amused eyebrow-raising, or Laken by the image of her sitting on a swing, wearing a dreamy smile as she sways her head back and forth - is of me dropping a grape down the back of his shirt, making him bang his head on the underside of the table.
I smile slightly, heart aching, and find myself wiping away a few tears.
Yep, that's my image.
Then I happen to glance at the coffin next to his, and my heart seizes up for a moment. She's smaller than Angela. And I tear my eyes away, wiping away a few more tears.
I shake my head, looking at Rowan again.
"People you throw grapes at aren't supposed to wind up dead," I say quietly, feeling that it makes perfect sense, if not logic-wise.
But the image that won't get out of my head, the one that means 'Rowan' to me - just like Chance is represented by dryly amused eyebrow-raising, or Laken by the image of her sitting on a swing, wearing a dreamy smile as she sways her head back and forth - is of me dropping a grape down the back of his shirt, making him bang his head on the underside of the table.
I smile slightly, heart aching, and find myself wiping away a few tears.
Yep, that's my image.
Then I happen to glance at the coffin next to his, and my heart seizes up for a moment. She's smaller than Angela. And I tear my eyes away, wiping away a few more tears.
I shake my head, looking at Rowan again.
"People you throw grapes at aren't supposed to wind up dead," I say quietly, feeling that it makes perfect sense, if not logic-wise.
