Lochlann’s first signing went surprisingly okay.
He hadn’t expected anyone to show up to the small bookstore for his signing to begin with, so the fact that there were fifteen people was a crowd to him. He only had two small boxes of the paperback book, which featured the illustrations of a local artist based on Lochlann’s clumsily drawn sketches.
But the words were there. His words.
Now, Lochlann still sat at the small table at the back of the bookstore. He was wearing jeans, as usual, but he had a nice suit jacket on over his normal dark shirt. He thought about wearing a tie but quickly gave up within minutes of the idea. Fuck ties. Fuck buttons. Fuck this, was this even a good idea?
But it went okay. He’d sold a few, and though it wasn’t a lot of money, it was nice talking to people about books. It was nice talking to the kids, too, which surprised him. He’d always just accepted he would never have children—it wasn’t impossible, but it would require such a relationship and such magic that Lochlann couldn’t picturing it happening to him.
Lochlann looked tired, but maybe also better than he had in a few years. His dark hair was getting a bit unruly, but in a way that suggested he had a cut not so long in the distant past. He was pale, as usual, but more in a way that suggested Irish rather than anemic. The dark bags were under his eyes and he was careful to use his non-dominant hand as much as possible. His scars were healing but still pocketed and ugly.
He leaned back in the small folding chair in the corner of the bookstore and stretched out both his legs. He was itching for a cigarette but didn’t want to go outside to smoke until he was certain he was done.
Being here brought back memories: Addy, and, more recently, Cat.
Christ, he thought he did everything right with Cat. He told her, for gods sakes, he told her what he was. But Addy? She never had a chance. He thought of everyone she would have been safe, but it was just further proof to him that he was a monster.
But that was almost two years ago. She was probably somewhere else. Happy, he hoped.
I’m sorry every song is about you, he thought, and he flipped through the copy of his own book, amazed at how the drawings looked just like her and they didn’t. It was her, but it was a memory of her.
Addy and the Angelfish.
He missed her so much he could almost smell her.
@Trahnael
He hadn’t expected anyone to show up to the small bookstore for his signing to begin with, so the fact that there were fifteen people was a crowd to him. He only had two small boxes of the paperback book, which featured the illustrations of a local artist based on Lochlann’s clumsily drawn sketches.
But the words were there. His words.
Now, Lochlann still sat at the small table at the back of the bookstore. He was wearing jeans, as usual, but he had a nice suit jacket on over his normal dark shirt. He thought about wearing a tie but quickly gave up within minutes of the idea. Fuck ties. Fuck buttons. Fuck this, was this even a good idea?
But it went okay. He’d sold a few, and though it wasn’t a lot of money, it was nice talking to people about books. It was nice talking to the kids, too, which surprised him. He’d always just accepted he would never have children—it wasn’t impossible, but it would require such a relationship and such magic that Lochlann couldn’t picturing it happening to him.
Lochlann looked tired, but maybe also better than he had in a few years. His dark hair was getting a bit unruly, but in a way that suggested he had a cut not so long in the distant past. He was pale, as usual, but more in a way that suggested Irish rather than anemic. The dark bags were under his eyes and he was careful to use his non-dominant hand as much as possible. His scars were healing but still pocketed and ugly.
He leaned back in the small folding chair in the corner of the bookstore and stretched out both his legs. He was itching for a cigarette but didn’t want to go outside to smoke until he was certain he was done.
Being here brought back memories: Addy, and, more recently, Cat.
Christ, he thought he did everything right with Cat. He told her, for gods sakes, he told her what he was. But Addy? She never had a chance. He thought of everyone she would have been safe, but it was just further proof to him that he was a monster.
But that was almost two years ago. She was probably somewhere else. Happy, he hoped.
I’m sorry every song is about you, he thought, and he flipped through the copy of his own book, amazed at how the drawings looked just like her and they didn’t. It was her, but it was a memory of her.
Addy and the Angelfish.
He missed her so much he could almost smell her.
@Trahnael
