(no subject)

Jake isn't watching TV again. I say isn't because it's on, and he's watching it, but I can tell even from here that his eyes are just following the flicker of shape and of colour, I can tell that his mind isn't there. Avery is asleep, and has been, curled into the fetal position that shouldn't be so familiar. It's amazing that no matter what happens, no matter how extraordinary, the tone of the flat can still be a simple 'blah.' I can't carry Avery upstairs, and I don't know if he wants to go. I can't bring Jake back from his own mind, but I can go sit on him and try, and we can both watch Avery sleep.

I want the blah gone.