notmonica: (Mommy?)
[personal profile] notmonica
She'd heard there was supposed to be a party at the Musing Way. Toni had tried to persuade her to come. Persuade, hell, cajoled and bribed and finally given up in aggravated despair.

She didn't understand.

This was stupid, Parker thought, looking from the book she'd bought to the clay on her table, remembering Jarod's stupid little monastery and his diorama. This was stupid.

But she molded clay into legs, into arms, the curves of skulls, and then she painted bones on carefully, remembering instructions in the book she'd read once and put aside, when she had still been deciding whether or not she was going to do this.

Parker had traditions. She visited her mother's grave once a year, and she went alone. (Except once.)

This broke tradition.

The little skeleton was pale white in her hand when she laid it down, and the smaller skeleton beside it gleamed dully.

"I miss you," Parker whispered. "Mommy. You weren't weak. I'm sorry, Kyle."

She crouched for a moment, her hand on the gravestone, and then she walked away.

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notmonica

March 2010

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