(She stops dead in the middle of the room when Lup finally arrives, dropping her shoulders, standing straight. This has become well-versed habit over the years, the time alone. Draw yourself up and maintain good posture: nobody will question you. Nobody will ever guess that you don't even have a slight handle on all of your shit.
Seeing Lup makes her want to start crying again.
It's so strange. She knows, logically, that she'd just seen Lup the other day at home, lazing in the living room on the couch. Lucretia had seen her drop her phone on her face, she'd laughed. But today she'd jumped forwards sixty-eight odd years– and somewhere towards the end, she'd lost Lup entirely and those years had been so dark, so full of guilty what-ifs. How can seeing her again (and like this, whole and un-dead and full of concern, familiar little smile on her face) feel so raw?)
It's so good to see you, (she manages, over the lump in her throat.)
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Seeing Lup makes her want to start crying again.
It's so strange. She knows, logically, that she'd just seen Lup the other day at home, lazing in the living room on the couch. Lucretia had seen her drop her phone on her face, she'd laughed. But today she'd jumped forwards sixty-eight odd years– and somewhere towards the end, she'd lost Lup entirely and those years had been so dark, so full of guilty what-ifs. How can seeing her again (and like this, whole and un-dead and full of concern, familiar little smile on her face) feel so raw?)
It's so good to see you, (she manages, over the lump in her throat.)