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May. 23rd, 2017 08:33 amGetting a job with Newt has been a godsend, because it means that most of Sara's days are filled with things that keep her distracted from her obsession with finding Cid. On her days off, she still calls the Home, and she still visits the train station, but for the most part, she tries to take the time to work on that house in the countryside, getting the yard cleaned up and making sure it's livable.
It's warm out today, and she's spent the morning working, so now she's taking some time to have a solitary lunch in the park. She might have normally invited Greta, but she fully plans on visiting the Home to check in, to see if Cid has suddenly shown up in their system, and lately, she feels a little bad about constantly reminding Greta that neither of their kids is here.
When she sees the woman walking with a tiny bundle of a baby, it feels like the universe, or at least the city, is pointing in her face, stickin' it to her. See, Sara? This is what you can't have. You gave this up when Cid was a baby, and this is your punishment.
She wants to turn her back to the woman on principle. But it's not her fault, is it? And besides, it looks like she could use some help.
She covers her little lunch with a napkin and stands, walking the dozen or so paces.
"Hey, you dropped this," she says. She picks it up, a little binkie with a clip meant to keep it attached to the baby's blanket or shirt, or something. But the clip either wasn't attached, or wasn't attached well, because now the little nipple has grass on it.
It's warm out today, and she's spent the morning working, so now she's taking some time to have a solitary lunch in the park. She might have normally invited Greta, but she fully plans on visiting the Home to check in, to see if Cid has suddenly shown up in their system, and lately, she feels a little bad about constantly reminding Greta that neither of their kids is here.
When she sees the woman walking with a tiny bundle of a baby, it feels like the universe, or at least the city, is pointing in her face, stickin' it to her. See, Sara? This is what you can't have. You gave this up when Cid was a baby, and this is your punishment.
She wants to turn her back to the woman on principle. But it's not her fault, is it? And besides, it looks like she could use some help.
She covers her little lunch with a napkin and stands, walking the dozen or so paces.
"Hey, you dropped this," she says. She picks it up, a little binkie with a clip meant to keep it attached to the baby's blanket or shirt, or something. But the clip either wasn't attached, or wasn't attached well, because now the little nipple has grass on it.
