At breakfast, she downs a pill along with her OJ and eggs. Then she downs another, smiles awkwardly at the person next to her and says: "Sorry, I get really bad indigestion - did you want the butter? No? God, sorry, the water, right -"
All of it is very nice, very filling. She barely eats a thing, and is on her feet with a mostly full plate left behind as soon as it's acceptable to go. "Sorry, sorry, it's just, I have a kid - a teenager, you know how they are. I have to find her, sorry - it was great!"
Astrid, as it happens, is not here. There's no sign of her, or that she's ever existed here. This fills her with a familiar dread; it fills her with a familiar melancholy. In one of the drawing rooms, where some of the family's music albums are, so sits down, draws her hands across her face and says, absently: "This isn't the afterlife, is it?" Not as she knows it, however briefly she saw it.
Later, as the sun sets, she's sitting by the entrance, checking her watch, foot tapping. Strained smile in place, arms folded across her chest, waiting, waiting. "They said they'd bring a car, but it's been - christ, two hours?" The car, of course, isn't coming. That much becomes obvious by hour three.
🔮 ITSY BITSY TEENIE WEENIE
Her cup says It's Complicated, because it is. She wishes it were as simple as taken, or single, or just flat out not interested. She dips her toes in the pool, black one-piece and over-sized sun-hat blocking out most of the sun. If you sit next to her, she looks a little frantic, asks: "Do you have a cigarette? Please, god, tell me you do."
Or, later, she wanders through the maze. She's drawn to the rocks like a moth, curious and wildly bored on her own. Never in her life did she think she'd ever miss her step-mother this badly. Never in her life did she think she'd be holding a glowing rock and thinking, god, what if I had married that old pervert? It's been a long week - it's been a long life.
🔮 FRUITS OF LABOUR
It happens all too late, all before she really grasps what's happening. The ribbon is around her hands, then yours, and she smiles so painfully awkwardly and says: "Oh geez, no, no thank you, I'm already - oh, it's stuck, oh fuck -" as she gives a particularly hard pull and gets nowhere.
A beat of silence passes from her, and then, frantically: "Scissors - we need scissors, and I need a cigarette, or five, someone's gotta have at least one of 'em."
🔮 NETWORK
Has anyone ever made it out the gates ... I have something I'm ****REALLY**** late for ... and a teenager back home ...
lydia deetz - beetlejuice²
At breakfast, she downs a pill along with her OJ and eggs. Then she downs another, smiles awkwardly at the person next to her and says: "Sorry, I get really bad indigestion - did you want the butter? No? God, sorry, the water, right -"
All of it is very nice, very filling. She barely eats a thing, and is on her feet with a mostly full plate left behind as soon as it's acceptable to go. "Sorry, sorry, it's just, I have a kid - a teenager, you know how they are. I have to find her, sorry - it was great!"
Astrid, as it happens, is not here. There's no sign of her, or that she's ever existed here. This fills her with a familiar dread; it fills her with a familiar melancholy. In one of the drawing rooms, where some of the family's music albums are, so sits down, draws her hands across her face and says, absently: "This isn't the afterlife, is it?" Not as she knows it, however briefly she saw it.
Later, as the sun sets, she's sitting by the entrance, checking her watch, foot tapping. Strained smile in place, arms folded across her chest, waiting, waiting. "They said they'd bring a car, but it's been - christ, two hours?" The car, of course, isn't coming. That much becomes obvious by hour three.
Her cup says It's Complicated, because it is. She wishes it were as simple as taken, or single, or just flat out not interested. She dips her toes in the pool, black one-piece and over-sized sun-hat blocking out most of the sun. If you sit next to her, she looks a little frantic, asks: "Do you have a cigarette? Please, god, tell me you do."
Or, later, she wanders through the maze. She's drawn to the rocks like a moth, curious and wildly bored on her own. Never in her life did she think she'd ever miss her step-mother this badly. Never in her life did she think she'd be holding a glowing rock and thinking, god, what if I had married that old pervert? It's been a long week - it's been a long life.
It happens all too late, all before she really grasps what's happening. The ribbon is around her hands, then yours, and she smiles so painfully awkwardly and says: "Oh geez, no, no thank you, I'm already - oh, it's stuck, oh fuck -" as she gives a particularly hard pull and gets nowhere.
A beat of silence passes from her, and then, frantically: "Scissors - we need scissors, and I need a cigarette, or five, someone's gotta have at least one of 'em."
Has anyone ever made it out the gates ... I have something I'm ****REALLY**** late for ... and a teenager back home ...