***Tell me what you think****

~When trust in ones words are lost, the best answer is laughter~

She looked deep into the clouds swimming aimlessly in her tea. Dark damp warmth rose to her face as she sipped slowly. She wished the darkness to consume her whole, bury her deep in the steaming liquid, drown her quickly with its soothing qualities. Inara watched the tea disappear slowly, the levels lowering in her cup. If only she could be sipped, the edges of her body devoured piece by piece until there was nothing left. A ring encircling an old teacup. Her grip loosened on the handle she let the cup tilt dangerously on the brink of falling. She played with its fate before letting it drop; it shattered, the sharp pieces falling into her rug, onto the floor, under the bed. The noise it caused was satisfactory. Inara stood and walked gingerly around the table waiting for the surprise prink of pain to run up her bare foot, waited for some recognizable feeling, a hurt that would not lie. She found comfort in the blood flowing from her heel, the crimson was crimson, and the pain was well founded. She sat back down and dug the jagged porcelain out of her foot. Leaning back into the comforts offered by the couch she sighed deeply contemplating the reminiscent nerves now tingling with ache. Mal barged into her moment spewing incomprehensible words in her direction. His eyes located the blood quickly, as it was dripping onto the carpet directly in his field of vision, and stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you okay?” He asked with serious concern, at her side in two brisk steps. Examining the wound with a trained eye. She looked at him, head cocked to the side. Such a simple question; such a difficult answer. A barrage of words entered her head, clogged up her tongue, she replied with the only defence she had when her barricade was so low. Inara laughed.