Ask me if I prefer the event of a falling sky or a breaking Moon.
The Moon's light will shine no more if it broke.
But the sky would not be as blue and joyous if it fell.
I prefer the skyfall.
I will be forever blue with it.
[FRENEMIES TO LOVERS]
£
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"You'll be fine without me, right?"
☂
1993
"Your brothers and sisters have all finished their oatmeal and begun their training for the day." The woman said, holding the spoon that held the oatmeal. "Do you want to join them, Number Seven?" She watched as Vanya said nothing and sat in annoyance. She clicked her tongue. "Is someone having a tough morning." Vanya stared at her in the face. The kettle on the stove began to whistle. Even though it wasn't even on. The woman didn't seem to notice the sound. "You know what cheers me up when I'm down? Singing." She started singing the French song, 'L'Empereur, sa femme et le petit prince'.
The whistling grew louder. And louder, until the kettle started to shake. Vanya squinted her eyes, and the woman was flown back. The spoon falling from her hand. She landed in the small land field of plastic building blocks.
Vanya was being nice.
The whistling faded as Reginald walked in. "Number Seven!" He scolded. Her small head turned to him. "Hm." He watched as she looked down. But deep down she didn't care. She was happy. And to her, that was all that mattered.
Next.
"Hi, Number Seven. I'm your new nanny, Mrs. Cornwallis."
The kettle whistled.
The shelves shook.
And down the stairs she went. Her neck snapped.
"Number Seven!" Reginald warned again. She looked down.
Next.
"Bonjour. I'm Miss Stevenbaker and I am your new nanny."
The kettle whistled.
The utensil holder rattled.
She was thrown out the window.
"Number Seven!" Reginald scolded once again. She looked down.
Next.
"Hello, Number Seven. My name is Grace. I'm your new nanny." She said animatedly. "Your father tells me you don't like oatmeal, but we need our breakfast to grow up big and strong, and you have to train with the others after you eat. Here, let me help you." She picked up the spoon holding oatmeal and began to slowly move it towards the little girl's mouth.
