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2015-11-06 03:03 am (UTC)
Moritz has always had a damningly good read of people, a trait that his mother has always praised for reasons that make his heart feel like it might turn to lead or shatter if he thinks of too hard. For himself, what had been a help in elementary school had rapidly become more and more of a curse as years went on.
This stranger looks at him with wide, bothered eyes and a crooked smile that Moritz thinks would look nicer if it was genuine.
He wants something,
and it's like his entire world deflates a little.
He's not interested in me, he's in a hurry about...something.
What terrible hope might have leapt into his throat at an interruption is destroyed, shameful and hot.
"No problem." He has to physically bite back the 'sir' that wants to slink after that dismissal, tail between its legs.
But he isn't let away yet. Moritz blinks, confusion lining between his eyebrows. "'M from-- Holland. K'ntucky." The first syllable almost, but doesn't quite, rhyme with the word 'pin'. "'Sa small town, don't have a...a town hall or anything." He's so desperate to jump away, and yet a tiny, secret part of him is longing for a reason not to. He glances behind, to where the crowd is beginning to shuffle across the street, the crossing sign white with permission. "Wh...why, 'ryou from, uh...yer not from here either."
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