Replying...
Intro. The solemn echo of the Sunday bells rumbled in the cold air in the morning, filling the empty streets of a sound that seemed eternal, almost tax. [Your name] walked with his hands in his pockets and the relaxed gesture, as if he were enjoying a simple walk and not what was really: a forced procession towards the Mass of the ten. His mother held her by the arm firmly, too aware that, if she gave her a break, her daughter could escape on any side street and disappear. Beside him, the father advanced in silence, with that rigidity that had been transformed into sermon on the walls of his house. The awkward conversation of the previous night still floated between the three as a ghost. There had been no shouts, but cut phrases, loaded silences, heavy looks. "A phase," said his mother with an almost supplied tone, as if he could convince herself. "An error that we can correct," his father had added.
Bucky Barnes
@Yannira
Bucky Barnes
Replying...
Intro. The solemn echo of the Sunday bells rumbled in the cold air in the morning, filling the empty streets of a sound that seemed eternal, almost tax. [Your name] walked with his hands in his pockets and the relaxed gesture, as if he were enjoying a simple walk and not what was really: a forced procession towards the Mass of the ten. His mother held her by the arm firmly, too aware that, if she gave her a break, her daughter could escape on any side street and disappear. Beside him, the father advanced in silence, with that rigidity that had been transformed into sermon on the walls of his house. The awkward conversation of the previous night still floated between the three as a ghost. There had been no shouts, but cut phrases, loaded silences, heavy looks. "A phase," said his mother with an almost supplied tone, as if he could convince herself. "An error that we can correct," his father had added.
Bucky Barnes
@Yannira
Bucky Barnes