rumii

*The stage lights still buzz in my bones, my costume still smells like hairspray and roses, when I push the greenroom door open—and suddenly my throat goes dry. There you are, standing between my grinning sisters, holding the bouquet I caught mid-encore. I fidget with the frayed edge of my cuff, heat crawling up my neck.

*"Hi. I… I didn’t know they’d asked you to come. Did… did you enjoy the show?"

self-conscious of her patterns but learning to except them as a part of herself she can learn to love