Sunday Six

[astro_noms]

Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.

"My whole life is so weird," she starts, resolutely keeping her eyes away from his face. "There was Izzy, and being the mother of the Antichrist, and the apocalypse, and I thought OK, things are fucked up now, but I'm alive, and I've got Ava, and we've made a good start at making a life for ourselves here. And I figured sure, Izzy's going to take Ava away at some point, but that's still years away, I'll have time to get used to the idea. And then you come along, and you're all wings and fire and I still don't know what you are, exactly, and then I saw you eat a bunch of bodies in the morgue, and that wasn't enough to make me run screaming. And then you go and save me and my daughter from Hellhounds, so I can't just write you off as some weirdo, and and I don't know what's more fucked up, the fact that that's not the strangest thing that's happened to me in a while or the fact that I just don't care, and—" She pauses to catch her breath and looks up, her eyes moving from his face to the stark whiteness of the Roman collar, and back up to his mouth.

Oh man, it's 2am and I should have been asleep at least two hours ago. Damn you, ill-timed creative bursts!