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Shiver
Topic Started: Mar 13 2010, 01:56 PM (130 Views)
edwards on bebop
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Moar MHS; Moar Drama

“Let me do this, please.” She said; a fleeting whisper in the dark morning.

“We really don’t have time for this.”

A disappearing voice called forth, conducting from the phone in her hand. The morning is cold. Sunlight creeps up on darkness, but there are no rays to pierce it just yet. It is more of a threat, that in moments- whether they are seconds or minutes- it will take its shot and officially begin a new day. Seconds and minutes. There truly wasn’t enough time anymore. “Just-” Pause. Beat. There is frustration, so much so that it renders its own physical force so sheer, a blunt knife could split it. “Let me. I won’t run this time.” With frustration, there is now a plea.

“A track record like yours? Why should I trust you.”

It is not a question but a statement, invoking the idea that of course, there is no trust. When there was, it was broken. Why put that back up again? People learn from their mistakes. They know now to question it at the very least. She keeps quiet. Her hands shake as the wind bursts through the open window; her eyes remain in contact with the fading stars.

“You’ve got five minutes, if you’re lucky. The moment that sun rises, if you aren’t with me, I’m coming to find you. Come what may-”

“-And hell to pay. I know.” Hang up. Time is wasted with idle and useless goodbyes. Of all things for this to come to, she would never have imagined... Nevermind. With all things like this, it is better not to search out; better not to try finding her, but let it fall the other way around. From the empty desk she retrieved a scrap of paper and a marker. How kind of them to be left behind. A small scribble- the proverbial bouquet of clumsy words?

The secret is out.

Not much of an arrangement. And there is little skill in slipping a note beneath a neighbour’s door. There is even less in detaching oneself from a fading school yard. The overseers don’t seem to mind anymore, when their numbers dwindle away. She retreats to the main gate, where the shrouded partner waits with frustrating beats tapped against concrete sidewalks by a twitching foot. Took you long enough.

Here’s one for you.

Edith.
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