Ira

Fragment no. 3

Ira sits at the top of the bench, elbows resting on knees. He is the only one of his friends who doesn’t appear to be smiling; instead, a faint look of amusement overshadows his thin, angular face, framed by a black hood and some strands of light auburn hair. She is struck by how pale his eyes are, like gazing into cool grey water, staring forward into nothing. He wears an oversized jacket, but she sees the bags under his eyes and his slender frame, and she can tell there’s something off with his stance. She reads in him the turmoil he’s described, but it seems deeper than what she’s imagined, like a sickness seeping through his bones. He has the stare of someone who has watched many things, many unwelcome, private things, and has kept silent about them.

A part of @100fragments, which is a novel written daily in bite-sized format as part of The 100 Day Project.