Threads: Athousandmilesandcounting 01 - Blog Posts

𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ   𝔹𝔸𝕐𝕆ℝ   𝕆ℂ𝔸𝕄ℙ𝕆                (athousandmilesandcounting​)

Even before he looked up and saw who had spoken to him, their voice carried with it a disarming and unexpected kindness that he couldn’t help but smile at. When he got a look at the young girl’s aura, he was only surprised that the reality managed to surpass the expectation-as well as the deep sadness coiled around it.

Her question earned a small, sad smile that grew somewhat after a beat. “Got it in one. Thinkin’ about a real good someone in my less than awesome hours here. It’s real sweet of you to ask, my dude.”

immediately all chrissy’s tentative assumptions were blown far and wide by such a carefree cadence. she gently pressed her lips together so a laugh wouldn’t accidentally spill out. the amusement sourced more from her interest than his oddity, but considering the mood he might be in chrissy wasn’t keen on taking a chance. 

                   ❝  where are you from?  is that where she is?  ❞

less than awesome hours here.  hawkins here or.....or hours on earth here? the realization that she could empathize with both tasted sour on the back of her tongue. he absolutely didn’t need to know that.   ❝  it was just a question. but being alone missing someone is hard. i’m sorry. ❞

𝔻𝔼𝔸ℝ 𝔹𝔸𝕐𝕆ℝ 𝕆ℂ𝔸𝕄ℙ𝕆,                        (athousandmilesandcounting​)

send   a   🎤    &   i’ll   shuffle   my   music   &   use   the   lyrics   to   write   a   starter.

@greenscrunchy​

“Finding I’m more lost and found when she’s not around When she’s not around I feel it coming down.”

there’s a story in everything. doodles in class note margins, pins on jackets. converse so customized barely any of the original color remained. the exact order of songs on a cassette. chrissy had never been to a concert, but she’d always wondered if meanings of tracks, or entire albums, shifted when pulled apart then shuffled to stack up a satisfying performance. would listening along be confusing or electric? maybe at college she could finally find out.

songs sung by themselves, though, made her listen twice as hard. even over the whistling of wind past her ears as she slowed down her swing’s rhythm to catch the notes more clearly. 

                    ❝  pretty. it sounds like you miss somebody? someone....good for you?  ❞