". . . You're really not convincing me that it's not," he points out.
He takes over now, sliding his palm over the sweep of metal and plastic that lead to her handlebars. His head is up, cocked a little to one side; his lips are slightly parted as he explores the contours of the bike's dash and seat.
There's something in his eyes, unseeing as they are -- maybe focus, maybe wistfulness.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2011-08-12 09:31 pm (UTC)He takes over now, sliding his palm over the sweep of metal and plastic that lead to her handlebars. His head is up, cocked a little to one side; his lips are slightly parted as he explores the contours of the bike's dash and seat.
There's something in his eyes, unseeing as they are -- maybe focus, maybe wistfulness.