英语读书笔记-Book Lovers Day 11

Part 1

And anyone who’d miss that book’s obvious potentional is arguably incompetent.
I tip my head back, groaning at the(alarmingly starry, is this the first time I’ve looked up?) sky as I try to figure out how-or whether to backtrack.
A prick draws my gaze to my thigh, and I slap away a mosquito, only to catch two more landing on my arm.
I’ve been known to be blunt.
So I hated him, and so on and so forth.
But it seems worth mentioning those were extenuating circumstances.
I could burn off some of this energy.
Got distracted by two gin martinies and a platinum blond from your face.
A zing goes down my spine and right back up it, like my vertebrae just touched a live wire.
I deflect with “Just trying to watch out for your eyebrows”.
It would change your entire stormy scowl, and you’d need a new nickname.
I shake my head, tying to clear the image of growly Charlie scowling at his e-reader in a hotel somewhere nearby, his frown deepening wherever he reachs something salacious.

But that image, it seems, is all my brain wants to dwell on.
Tonight when I’m lying in bed, wide awake and trying to convince myself the world won’t end if I drift off, this is what I’ll come back to, my own mental happy place.
I wake, heart racing, skin cold and damp.
The whirring of my heart starts its signature post-nightmare coldown.
I piece together my surroundings.
Smiling good-naturedly while we fill up every gap with frantic chatter.
They fritter off like petals on a breeze.
What remains is the deep ache, the yawning canyon.
Mom looks up from the table in the kitchenette, legs curled under her , nightgown pulled over them.
And I bend to sweep a kiss across her cheek on my way to the fridge.
But I never notice this incongruity.
Like springtime incarnate, the kind of warmth your skin gulps down after a long winter.
Her lemon-lavender scent settling over me like a blanket
Like she’s been carved out of me.
Even with my sister’s snores shirvering through the bed. the house was too quiet.

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