;; six feet under ;; open

[rayms]

bible told me to forget all those who trespass against
tread their feet on sacred ground ;;
bad things come with consequence
what feels good hurts in the end ;;
don't wanna think about that now

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Feero slid effortlessly into one of the several open metal chairs that cluttered the sit down area of Vintage Brew, pulling her thigh length white cover up off to the side so as not to sit on it and dirty it up. Black leggings covered her down to her ankles until you see the black flats, a fitted black shirt dress with white undershirt all that covered her voluptuous form. She is quite pretty, gray blue eyes and classic blonde hair atop her attractive head, but that wasn't something she paid much attention to anymore. She'd only been here a few times and already she liked it far more than the Sugar Shack down the street; a lot less wily teenagers made a scene in Vintage Brew and she could enjoy herself in the half quiet the place occasionally occupied.

A delightful cappuccino is placed in front of her and she looks breathlessly up at the starstruck server, smiling and thanking him quickly for bringing it to her. Normally they just called the order number but something told her this guy was getting quite pleased with seeing her regularly. She sipped slowly at the piping hot beverage, sitting in pleasant silence before pulling out a book to read while she relaxed. Leaning back into the hard ornate back of the chair she ran her slender hand across the embossed cover. It was a title she'd wanted to read for quite a long time but, given her life a few months ago she never had much time for reading. She thought about it while she sat, always a new John every night and never really sure what would happen next, the beatings and the drugs she still struggled to stay away from at times. This book represented her new beginnings, being clean, and moving on from what had been to whatever was ahead. She could - and would - read it now.

With a slight upturn to her curved lips she sighed with contentment, opening the book and skimming the credit just on the inside before starting the story. She could get lost here, forget herself, so if she wasn't careful she might miss the time. Rather, she might not notice if someone pulled up a chair right across from her as the brewery slowly began to fill with patrons for the afternoon.

F I R E && B R I M S T O N E
dirt and a headstone
bury 'em baby,
all of our sins
hear the T H U N D E R
six feet U N D E R
hit your K N E E S
won't do it again

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