the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity; kensley

[kensley]

i took the poison praying you'd feel it, too i wrapped my neck and prayed that you'd feel the noose Her expression brightens and he thinks she must love her mother. He wonders if this is important. If it matters. If it should matter. He does not know the first name she offers, her mother’s. Relief surges through him and there, in the corner of his mouth, is another glimmer of some sad, secret smile because she had not said Anaxarete. And what would he have done if she had? Despite how fiercely he had loved her and the softness they had shared, Anaxarete had never belonged to him and he had raised their daughter alone. The second name she offers, her grandmother’s, is also unfamiliar. He had lived in the Chamber years before his home had undergone its radical and fantastical transformation. He does know the names Atrox and Twinge. And when she mentions her uncle, Magnus, he nods. “I remember them,” he muses. “Atrox, Twinge, and Magnus.” A happier time, he thinks. When his own family had been within reach. When he’d gone to the Chamber to save his sister from the darkness she’d fallen into. When he’d been in love. When he’d been good and kind and patient. “I’m very old,” he says. And then, after a moment, a tired smile. He wonders how he’ll live with all of the sadness. He imagines it dripping out of his pores, pooling in the dirt at his feet. He imagines it seeping into the skin of anyone foolish enough to try and touch him. shattered son of jarris and plumeria