When she concentrated, she pressed her lips into a thin line. No matter what she did, dimples etched the sides of her mouth. She stood up straight, feet planted, assured. She always started with the standing targets, could sink arrow after arrow into the bull’s eye. Sometimes she chose to aim for other places. “This one in the top left corner,” she murmured. Before the arrow left the string, he knew it wouldn’t miss. She didn’t miss. He rubbed his right arm, the phantom wound aching. He hoped she’d never aim for him, feared that she wanted to. When she pulled the bowstring taut, she knew who she was.
He loathed what he was, fought even when the moon pulled his muscles taut. She feared for the monster he could become, hoped he’d never would. She felt the graze of the bowstring against her cheek on every draw, the twinge in her heart at what she must be prepared to do. He couldn’t suspect. They had made promises before either understood how to keep them. He said, “I would never lie to you.” He chose to justify the ends, sometimes. The truth could bend as far as they needed it to, aimed at the standing targets. Resolved, he lay back on the grass, elbows propped. Yellow tinged the edges of his irises no matter what he did. He held his breath like a desperate hug when he concentrated.
Encircle 1/1
He loathed what he was, fought even when the moon pulled his muscles taut. She feared for the monster he could become, hoped he’d never would. She felt the graze of the bowstring against her cheek on every draw, the twinge in her heart at what she must be prepared to do. He couldn’t suspect. They had made promises before either understood how to keep them. He said, “I would never lie to you.” He chose to justify the ends, sometimes. The truth could bend as far as they needed it to, aimed at the standing targets. Resolved, he lay back on the grass, elbows propped. Yellow tinged the edges of his irises no matter what he did. He held his breath like a desperate hug when he concentrated.