█▌ ✧「ᴠɪʀɪᴅɪᴀɴ.

    Shards of glass were all that remained of the little quarrel that she was

    unfortunate enough to witness — that  he  was  ever  lucky  enough  to  be a

    p a r t i c i p a n t  in, to be involved in. & the clashing of words & phrases   —

    of  the  increase  of  volume  in  one’s  tone  &  the  deliberate  toss  of  idiotic

    insults  that  would  burn at their skin like acid — the origins of  such  a  thing

    remain forgotten throughout each swing of one’s fist & eventually, the smash 

    that  resounds through the room as glass meets flesh & blood  meets  glass.

    &  it’s that very color of the spectrum that stains him — hands, hair, cheeks  &

    arms — typical, really.

    So this event, like many others, is taken with a grain of salt; head shakes ever

    so  slightly  as  his physical state’s  pointed out  &  therefore  noticed — being

    concerned about.

    ❝  Don’t sweat it. ’M used t’ this shit by now — really. ❜