The Book Of Anna & English

26 - Cigarette Daydreams

Little ducks. Ola. Hi okay here you go

Triggers:

- None

***

There hasn't been a blue sky yet.

***

Harry

Funny how it seems like yesterday, as I recall you were looking out of place.

She dances through the rain, arms spread out to catch the drops, only letting them go like little waterfalls when her cupped hands start to overflow, her laughter hitting me just as hard as the rain did before it faded out into a soft drizzle.

It's incredible to me how she always seems to see the world through other people's eyes. She doesn't have to believe in their doubts, carrying her own on her shoulders. Anna Rose sends a message wherever she goes, just a being that exists wordlessly.

Her whole body comes barreling towards me, catching me off guard as I'm surrounded by my thoughts, my hands shooting out just in time to catch her. "English." She sings, tilting her head back and laughing at the sky with closed eyes as I hold her waist in my palms.

She's a ribbon, swaying along with the current. She feels like hope, floating in my veins like the sun, taking steps on the clouds. "Take me on your wings, Anna Rose."

I want her to show me. I want to see how she dances on a thousand rainbows. I want to understand how it's possible to fall through the clouds and land feet first on solid ground.

She wiggles out of my grip, the rain choosing the perfect moment to fall hard on her surprised face, a gasp coming from her lips as she suddenly tugs my hand, running. "Come on, English, you better hold on tight if you want to fly." She giggles, picking up speed.

My pulse echoes in my footsteps as our feet slap against the rapidly forming puddles, drenched in the rain, the red paint bleeding into the white shirt, like my heart bleeding into the moment.

***

The atmosphere in the car is stuffy, the humidity caught between the four doors, creating a comfortable silence between us. My gaze lands on Anna curled up on the seat, her feet tucked underneath her, wet hair dangling from her shoulders, falling into wild curls. It is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, so effortless.

Her flannel hangs loosely from her shoulders, her jean shorts high on her waist, barefoot, the picture of bliss sitting on her face. "You gonna start the car or stare some more?" I shift in my seat, the color of being caught evident on my face. "I can't help it if you look like that."

Looking behind me, I reverse out of the garage into the soft rain, the wipers forming background music as we drive through the empty streets. "I have to say English, you look good wearing my clothes."

Tongue in cheek, hiding a smile as her eyes twinkle. She's lying through her teeth, much like her. I'm wearing her flannel, but it sits tight around my shoulders, the buttons unable to close, my bare torso exposed. "It's most definitely the pajama shorts." She laughs now while she continues to tease me.

"Hey," I whine, looking down at my lap, the light grey shorts spanning over my thigh, but I can't be embarrassed, even if I think about the words rawrr stretching over my ass.

"It's not my fault your such a tiny human, stupid of me, given that Oliver's room was down the hall." Maybe a lapse in judgment from my side, but it's too late now. Her only reply is a snort and some more laughter. "Did you just?" She shakes her head, looking away. "Nope." She denies her hand going to turn on the radio.