Jan 27, 2013

Chapter 3, Part 3

Pretty self explanitory. Part 3 of Chapter 3. As with all of MISS LONELYHEARTS, you can find the compiled version at the top of my blog.

 “I could take Ambien and fall in to a deep, deep sleep. Or… I could just smoke and forget all about it. My pharmaceutical options are deliciously varied,” Greta mused to herself, rooting around the cabinet.

“Do you have a prescription for those?” Greta jumped, startled. Pills fell from the cabinet and in to the sink.

“Jesus, Jack.” Greta turned to face the abrupt intruder. She glared at him stonily as silence curled like river fog around them. “My dad is dead and I haven’t seen him in years because I’ve been playing hide and seek with my issues,” she turned back to the sink, fishing around the bottles, “so you’ll excuse you me if I kindly don’t give a fuck about prescriptions.”

“You haven't answer any of my calls so I called your work… Figured this counted as an emergency.” Something clinked on her kitchen bar. Greta didn’t stop her fishing. She kept her head low in the sink, not looking at Jack.

“That key was for a fire or something. You know, an actual emergency.”

“I think it’d be rather stupid of me to unlock your door if I knew there was a fire inside.” Greta scoffed, still fishing among the pill bottles. She spotted one, inside the garbage disposal.

Jack leaned nonchalantly against the kitchen bar, fingering the keys. He watched Greta from behind. Though inside she was a tasmanian devil, outside she was slumped over. Her whole body clenched. Her back muscles quivered with tension and he could hear the pills shake with her fingers as she read the label on the bottle.

“Why does it always end like this? It’s always the same,” Greta questioned, staring at the ugly orange bottle.

“What is?” Jack responded to her back as normally as if it were her face.

“Death. It’s always hopeless and paralyzing and new.”

“It’s the only thing that’s sure in life.” Jack dropped the keys impassively on the table. Greta laughed, placing her arms on the sink and her head in her arms. “Somehow I don’t find that reassuring,” she mumbled.


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