Chapter Text
Anna’s sweatshirt is too long and falls over the ends of Mabel’s fingertips, so she sticks her thumbs into holes worn into the fabric and runs around with the hood over her eyes, not caring if she looks mildly ridiculous because it smells like Anna and, if she pretends, she can still feel the warmth of her body.
Mabel has never been very good at pretending. Mabel knows that Anna is probably shivering down in the dirt, but nonetheless she gave her her sweatshirt, like a high school sweetheart would lend in the old movies that used to run nightly on the single television in Meredith dorm.