'Brainstorm, take me away from the norm
I got to tell you somethin'
This phenomenon, I had to put it in a song
And it goes like
Whoa, amber is the colour of your energy
Whoa, shades of gold displayed naturally'
Hannah always wanted a sense of contro...
RICHARD ATTACKED the mouldy door at around 6:30 a.m. that morning, an hour and a half earlier than he said he would.
Luckily, Hannah had gotten up at 6:00 to get ready. The girl wore a maroon, spaghetti strap tank top with embroidered plants across it, light denim shorts and black Converse. Her blonde hair had been curled and placed half up half down, being held up by a white butterfly clip.
Hannah opened the door with a queer look on her face.
"Good morning, Richard." She muttered more like a question, her voice hadn't adjusted yet so it was clogged and groggy.
"Mornin', Hannah." He had a deeply concerning look in his small, meek eyes, his voice was just as clogged as Hannah's, though Richard's seemed deader.
"Everything alright?" The young girl questioned as she dragged her bag out of her room.
"I- I'll explain in the car."
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Hannah shuffled around in the rough hospital seat and wiped her hands on her shorts for the third time in ten minutes. She looked around helplessly. She sat a seat away from Richard, with an itch in her brain nagging to be scratched every time she looked at the pitiful man.
"Ri-" She paused, thinking over her every minute decision. "Richard?" Hannah hummed miserably. Hannah moved to the seat next to the man with his head in his hands. As she sat, Hannah placed a gentle hand on Richard's heaving back.
The man looked at Hannah with tear-filled eyes, "what?" his voice cracked as much as it was physically able to.
"My father isn't dead yet." Hannah paused and began to draw circles into the red fabric of Richard's polo with her nail. "But my Grandfather is." The girl huffed awkwardly, she couldn't believe what she was doing.
"So I guess I know how you feel."
All she got from Richard was a tight smile, his top lip disappearing as he did so.
"Obviously losing a parent is different to losing a Grandparent, but, my Bampa was very special to me."
Silence fell between the six in the room once again. Until Richard spoke up with a harsh sigh and a weak chuckle.
"I can't believe I'm getting comforted by a 15-year-old girl."
"I can't believe I'm feeling remorse for a man who's spent the entire trip being really mean to his family."
The two looked at each other with small, sombre smiles. It was a seldom moment for the two.
