Ch.58 - Life Support

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The original covers of this book and my stony book. Eheheh.

Thank you so much for the 61K reads! Wow! And 2K comments like what the heck is that? I'm so blown away and I honestly can't quite understand how you guys put up with me but it means the world to me that you do.

Side note: today marks 45 years to the day of RDJ's first ever movie appearance in his dads film Pound at age 5! Also we got the countdown to the Downeys 10 year anniversary which is pretty damn cool!

Any who's, enjoy and I'm so so sorry for accidentally uploading then taking it down and all that confusion. Urg. SO EXCITED FOR THIS BOOKS FUTURE.
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Life support.

To Robert.

Miss you. Hope you're sleeping well.

A tube slid down a dry throat, praying a gentle flow of air into resistant lungs. Unable to suck in stale oxygen on your own you become dependent on a man made machine. Sometimes you're able to get off of it, and other times you don't. For her, it's easier with the aid, a welcomed and embraced act of assistance. When she is sick of waking up to darkness, shadows cast on a pale white ceiling and wind brushing through the slit that is the opened creaky window. Paint chipping where moisture has managed a hold, and from the framed glass being tossed open and closed with the fluctuating weather.

An albino Dalmatian spotted sky full of dazzling stars, crystal in their appearance. Brightness trying to leach from absorbent darkness. Shining an abstract attraction to the human eye. Glimmering hopefully down on salty seas and fresh oceans, minty mountains and calming pastures--and here Charlotte sits.

A thought filled, sleepless stare peering out over the side garage, where Dons fancy sleek Acura is parked, and out to the devoid of life street. A street lamp flickering lazily on dry pavement as her attention briefly catches on the foliage of a wind gusted spruce tree. It's almost hypnotizing the way branches and bristles move, dancing with restrictive play and push. Makes her knees press into her chest further, toes curling with the motions.

There's the occasional passing of cars, announced by swinging headlights striking strobes between the far stretched street lights. Swiping across blackened corners and sleeping daisies.

But it's the moon, the moon that's so round and bright this night that decreases even the darkest of shadows. No clouds--a sure rare miracle for Seattle. Or so Charlotte assumes. But it's crisp out, a cool whisking brush against her pale skin as she sits in the shelf like window cil. Off on the floor behind her is her self assembled nest made of ruffled blankets and mismatched pillows spread with intention on a colourful carpet.

The almost inaudible snoring of Molly, hair puffing out with each exhale where's it's strewn across her small round face. Complete and utter relaxation colouring the tiny ones features. No harms in the world of her dreams--so unlike Charlotte.

Charlotte has woken up from another burst of nightmares, stringed together because they can. It's got her with dark purple rings under her eyes, rubbing at them helplessly, with pity forming in her gut, and that is a useless thing. The rehashing of same thoughts, of failures, and embarrassments. Remembering the icky grip of a man she hates, pushing her into a cold twiggy ground, and then to the man she loves who guided her into silky sheets and an electric embrace.

A man who she misses terribly. Who she considers to have been her life support, or is still her life support. Got her through the hard times, and shown her the light of her success. A man who for the third day in a row, she hasn't been able to really speak to. This curling, tight spring that's ready to snap inside of her because they haven't been this separated since when she had very first started school. It's only been increasing in their time together, their touches, and warmth and breath shared. It's weird and empty without him now.

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