#splinter? yyyeeooowch!!

[6ryptid]

just trust me , okay ? -- scott

it's an utterly pitiful sight to behold. tucked away into some unimportant corner, amber sits upon an old wooden chair that gives a mournful creeeeek... at every miniscule shift. she thinks it's mocking her. maybe it is.

" scott, dude— " a whimper that's totally unbecoming of the casual wit she'd sharpened over the years.

amber's entire body tenses and coils, rubber sliding up aged chair legs until her knees are nearly higher than her lap. sweat begins to bead at her hairline &. hey... is the room spinning or is it just her ?

in amber's defense, it was a fairly gnarly splinter. a feather ghosting over the wound would send a short - lived jolt of pain right to her damn soul.

but it was now or never, amber knew that, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut until the sides crinkled into a group of angry, unflattering lines. " —please just get the splinter out. the anticipation is killing me! "