![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Aug. 24th, 2004 01:18 am*Up on the roof, in a one man tent that dreams of being a studio apartment, there is an ex-bandaid and an ex-turtle huddled, under second hand blankets, against the world*
Hey. You sleepin'?
Hey. You sleepin'?
Aug. 24th, 2004
(no subject)
Aug. 24th, 2004 03:47 pm*A soft light begins to glow in the tent/apartment on the roof. It's the structures way of keeping time, in this timeless place. It's not enough to actually wake a person up, or more to the point, it's not enough to wake Raph up if he wants to keep sleeping. It just so happens that this time, he's already awake. Awake and thinking again. This whole thinking thing has become quite the bad habit for him.
He's been thinking since he opened his eyes. He's still thinking as he silently watches Penny's chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. Her hair is draped across the pillow and much of her face. In fact the only part of her that he can see with any clarity is one bare shoulder which peeks out from under the faded second hand quilt.
Raph wants to reach out and touch her, just to assure himself that she's real, and there, and more importantly, that he's real and there. There's so much he just doesn't get. That he can't wrap his mind around. One conclusion had danced merrily around in his mind. That he's dead. That this is heaven. But it's squashed as quickly as the dance had begun. Surely Death would have told him if he was dead. Wouldn't she?
He wills this train of thought off the tracks. It doesn't do anyone any good to try and figure out the universe before they've had a cup of coffee.
The thoughts begin to swarm and dance again, unhindered in one large cloud of confusion. He tries to muffle the sound by just watching her sleep. For the most part, that seems to be working.
He's been thinking since he opened his eyes. He's still thinking as he silently watches Penny's chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. Her hair is draped across the pillow and much of her face. In fact the only part of her that he can see with any clarity is one bare shoulder which peeks out from under the faded second hand quilt.
Raph wants to reach out and touch her, just to assure himself that she's real, and there, and more importantly, that he's real and there. There's so much he just doesn't get. That he can't wrap his mind around. One conclusion had danced merrily around in his mind. That he's dead. That this is heaven. But it's squashed as quickly as the dance had begun. Surely Death would have told him if he was dead. Wouldn't she?
He wills this train of thought off the tracks. It doesn't do anyone any good to try and figure out the universe before they've had a cup of coffee.
The thoughts begin to swarm and dance again, unhindered in one large cloud of confusion. He tries to muffle the sound by just watching her sleep. For the most part, that seems to be working.