She looked at her hands. Her knuckles were white, her fingers literally locked together in a tight, aching braid. It was a superstition she couldn't quit. If she let go, the fragile silence of the house might shatter. If she let go, the person she was waiting for might never find the door.
The world outside didn’t end with a bang; it ended with a dial tone. billie eilish - fingers crossed // lyrics
The song in her mind shifted to that low, haunting hum. Everybody’s scared of something. She looked at her hands
She walked to the window. The street below was overgrown, the pavement cracked by stubborn weeds. A rusted car sat abandoned at the curb, its door hanging open like a tired jaw. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her interlaced fingers pressing into her palms. "I'm still here," she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. If she let go, the fragile silence of
Elara sat on the edge of her unmade bed, the static of the radio filling the gaps where a voice used to be. The lyrics of a song she’d heard a thousand times—one about holding breath and hoping for a miracle—looped in her head like a broken record. Fingers crossed.
In the "Before," that phrase was a joke. It was what you said when you hoped the coffee shop hadn't run out of oat milk or that the rain would hold off until you got home. Now, it was a religion.
She closed her eyes and pictured a kitchen filled with steam, the smell of burnt toast, and a laugh that sounded like bright yellow paint. She held that image behind her eyelids, squeezing her fingers until they throbbed. A floorboard creaked behind her.