Prompt is to write about a stolen conversation.
Dead air. Then, um...how are you?
The voice on the other line full of indifference when it only says, I'm fine, allowing for more dead air. Painful air. An air so thick that the shy one on the other line can touch it, their child-like crush shattered.
This won't do, Sian thinks. And so, she steals it. This is what she does.
Sian steals words.
Hard words, hateful words, cruel words, abusive words, she steals them all. I hate you. I'm leaving you. You're not good enough. No one likes you, go kill yourself.
All these Sian has taken. Every hurt word, every cruel intention, she stuffs them into her hand bag.
A small whisp of a woman, no one looks twice at her. No one sees her theft. At night, in that hour when everyone last peson is asleep, she takes them home and cooks them over her fire.
There, she leaves them for the day to simmer down, to fall apart, to be transformed.
Wiil you marry me? Let's be friends. We'll love you, no matter what. Let's start a family.
I love you.
These are the words she gives back.
Sian knows every word, even the smallest one, counts. Everyone makes a difference.