Observations, People

Her voice always quavers, like she lives on the edge of tears.

His nose is upswept, up-set, upset.

He sucked on the tooth like he wished it to fall out.

He was so thin that gravity had stretched his features to feminity.

She splayed her fingers, trying to catch his words, trying, perhaps, to tear them at the seams with the spires of her fingers.

You could tell that she had given up because she slumped atop the floor.

Her face was a crescent moon from the side: waxing, or waning?

She bared her teeth while listening, hostile to new opinions.

Never had their clasped hands looked like such a leash.

He talked straight ahead, words and eyes locked straight on the future. Next to him, she hid behind her backpack.

Her frown met her chin in a broken little circle.

Her voice rang clear, like lips singing off cheap wine glass.

The tenderness with which he handled his coffee cup made clear that he wished to break it.