[She just looks at him a moment, processing this in silence, ruminating on the possibilities and implications of the world this boy (this child, he can't be much older than Zack and Ivy, even) left behind, that it was his home and he never wants to see it again.
Then, as if possessed by some inexplicable compulsion, she heads to the board and finds a piece of chalk herself, searching out a free spot so that she can chalk down a set of lines of her own.
Hold to the point of most tension; the arrow will fall from you when it is right to do so.
It looks out of place next to his in a number of ways — in orientation, in handwriting. And perhaps most significantly, in content.
When she's finished, she stares at the letters a minute, like it wasn't just her own hand that put them there — like she's searching for an answer in them.]
no subject
Then, as if possessed by some inexplicable compulsion, she heads to the board and finds a piece of chalk herself, searching out a free spot so that she can chalk down a set of lines of her own.
Hold to the point of most tension; the arrow will fall from you when it is right to do so.
It looks out of place next to his in a number of ways — in orientation, in handwriting. And perhaps most significantly, in content.
When she's finished, she stares at the letters a minute, like it wasn't just her own hand that put them there — like she's searching for an answer in them.]
You're not complaining.
[She's quiet again.]
How many of them are you hoping to see?