SINS OF OUR TONGUES

lead pencil lips displayed on his maw as a crooked grin, flawless as it ever was. this woman was indeed an interesting find. angered by the world, forever in a tango of scraps to survive. or, if she were interesting enough, angery at her insanity which in turn drove her insane. "perhaps, my little fly trap, you never leave anger?" he studied her, watched her features as they softened but did not extinguish. he wanted to see more of this woman. she intrigued him.

the man joined her laugh with a small, one-toned exhale of a chuckle. he chose not to answer her, to leave her question hanging - not forgotten, just pushed aside. his eyes averted to their feet, to the gnarled root separating them. amusement washed over him and he glanced up at the woman yet again, "how do you suppose one fucks a root?"