Foil stuck in her hair as she picks out locks to highlight, and a hair clip holding random strands and locks together.
The blanket is warm, the room cold, and she is snuggled tight against another.
Their fingers laced, their legs tangled, their breathing even.
They wake, to sleepy hellos and half woken words tripping out of their mouths.
Breaths caught between lips, invisible words written on skin and the secrets of rainy days whispered into each other's ears.
They're all there is;
an entire world, a collection of stories, boxes of pictures, fistfuls of scars.
Rainy days and Mondays(:
Meanwhile, on the other side of town.
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