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Post by KADEN ALLINGHAM-HEMSWORTH on Jun 25, 2012 21:03:46 GMT -5
  Children. Kaden was going to be taking care of a child. What next, enrolling in the circus? Renting himself out as a circus clown to toddlers’ birthday parties? Incompetent enough as he was when it came to social endeavors, Kaden was sure that his general disinclination to connect with his fellow human beings was inversely proportional to the age of those with whom he was expected to interact. And how old was this young girl for whom he would be caring? Five? Four? Some inane number, the specific nature of which Kaden could have cared less about, but which he was sure would end up being far too small for his liking. But regardless, he was doing it. Perhaps, somewhere deep in him, a little bell of humanity felt a shred of pity for the girl. He certainly couldn’t imagine having to spend even three days with an insufferable little twat, not to mention the however many years this young woman had put up with it. But in any case, he was a bit fond of her. She exuded an aura that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. An aura of ambiguity, and perhaps of ambivalence as well? But it was something that he wanted to examine, from under a microscope, from a satellite, from a balcony far above, with every sort of graphic imaging tool available. And here he would get the opportunity, certainly. Perhaps it’d be an opportunity to study the appeal of children to adults, whatever in God’s name that was. He knocked on the door of Ivy’s apartment, wondering if perhaps she wouldn’t be home, and he’d be able to forget that he’d ever agreed to this laughable endeavor. But then he heard her voice emanating from within. “You think so? Thank you, Kitten” Kitten? Oh goodness gracious, was that the sort of vocabulary that Kaden was going to have to employ? Feeling the aches begin to throb in his head and throughout his body, he tried the knob, and before he knew it he was standing in the young woman’s apartment. ”Hello,” he said politely, wondering how much she was expecting him to talk during this operation. ”Is this the correct apartment?”He was staring into a quaint living room, watching Ivy sit with her younger daughter of whose name Kaden had not been informed. The woman seemed very happy with the daughter’s choice of a page in a book. Then he noticed the motions of her hand. Coloring. Coloring…well. Within the lines. Eager to please. And a good actress. Or perhaps… There was something about the motions, the subtleties beneath the muscles in her face, that made him believe that she wasn’t feigning it. Perhaps…but no, that couldn’t be. How could any adult in his or her right mind possibly truly harbor such enthusiasm for a such a childish activity as… coloring? Wordz: 480 Tagz: Ivy Notez: Blah blah blah ta ta ta talkin’bout Clothez: ClickCreditz: Lyrics are The Past is Another Land by Elton John and Tim Rice. This template is by MONICA of OUAC. DON’T BE STEALIN’, YA HEAR?
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