Her distraught hands showed her emotional state. The cuticles were chewed, the skin was dry, and they shook nervously. The anxious look in her deep, dark brown eyes, was familiar; identical to mine. "Just lay it out there Breann, then we can be certifiably crazy and commit to rubber rooms," the gratuitous insult led to her revelation. "Six babies over eleven days during the first part of September 1970 should've been stillborn. Instead, two misguided narcissists put robotics or something in those babies. Caleb, you and I were two of them. Now, I think, we're going to expire, you know, die"
*blogger's note* This is my entry for Ms.Velvet's http://www.velvetverbosity.com/ 's 100 word Challenge. The one word prompt is GRATUITOUS. This is another excerpt from a book I've been writing since the first of the year.
Today's song is one that would play nicely during this scene. The Police's Synchronicity I, which starts off the album.
Baby, You Can/Can’t Drive My Car
42 minutes ago