[ She feels the bed dip, and relaxes. Just a tiny bit, just a fraction, but it's - something. She sniffles, loud and hard and sounding as ugly as she feels, sweaty and blotchy and uncomfortable, and presses her closed eyes against her knees. ]
Yeah. [ Another breathe. Another beat. Another staccato of her heart. ] Used to, when I was a kid. When we went to Cuba.
[Home, mom would call it.
Claire doesn't think to ask why Frank is asking. ]
no subject
Yeah. [ Another breathe. Another beat. Another staccato of her heart. ] Used to, when I was a kid. When we went to Cuba.
[ Home, mom would call it.
Claire doesn't think to ask why Frank is asking. ]