(no subject)
Feb. 26th, 2005 08:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pop_tartswell, THIS has been a while, hasn't it? um, all I can say is that I've been listening to Kid A by Radiohead? and? um? --yeah. anyway.
--
Christina wakes up and there's some kind of smell in the apartment.
It's sweet, like honey nights over at fifty-second street, the few afternoons she went to see. Honey is still cheap and plentiful, there are always insects and always straggly little weeds to pollinate. The girls wrapped in plastic and the sweat and the overripe fruit and the honey all mix together to make this kind of, smell. not like weed smoke, that's sweet and earthy, pleasant like a dream, and not like perfume, that's oily and flowery or deep and slightly sour but always in a fresh way.
this doesn't smell fresh. She sits up, wipes sleep out of her eyes and sweat off her neck, and stands up. The smell gets stronger as she turns to the window, and then she sees Mer over by the window, slouched on the glass, hair in her face. her skin is bright pink from being in the sunlight, intensified by glass, but her hands are blue-y green, especially around her fingernails, with raised little bumps. the only reason she can see them is because one of Mer's hands is sitting in a pool of sunshine, so peaceful, so serene looking.
"Mer?" she says, but there's not going to be an answer, and she knows it. the sunshine has accelerated it, Mer's already gone, skin blotchy. Christina doesn't investigate any more, she just opens the door and takes her bike keys. she makes sure to lock the door with a unique code before she leaves, because Christina has been living in this world for long enough to know what drug overdoses and what stabbings and what shootings look like, and this is none of those by far. this is something worse.
--
--
Christina wakes up and there's some kind of smell in the apartment.
It's sweet, like honey nights over at fifty-second street, the few afternoons she went to see. Honey is still cheap and plentiful, there are always insects and always straggly little weeds to pollinate. The girls wrapped in plastic and the sweat and the overripe fruit and the honey all mix together to make this kind of, smell. not like weed smoke, that's sweet and earthy, pleasant like a dream, and not like perfume, that's oily and flowery or deep and slightly sour but always in a fresh way.
this doesn't smell fresh. She sits up, wipes sleep out of her eyes and sweat off her neck, and stands up. The smell gets stronger as she turns to the window, and then she sees Mer over by the window, slouched on the glass, hair in her face. her skin is bright pink from being in the sunlight, intensified by glass, but her hands are blue-y green, especially around her fingernails, with raised little bumps. the only reason she can see them is because one of Mer's hands is sitting in a pool of sunshine, so peaceful, so serene looking.
"Mer?" she says, but there's not going to be an answer, and she knows it. the sunshine has accelerated it, Mer's already gone, skin blotchy. Christina doesn't investigate any more, she just opens the door and takes her bike keys. she makes sure to lock the door with a unique code before she leaves, because Christina has been living in this world for long enough to know what drug overdoses and what stabbings and what shootings look like, and this is none of those by far. this is something worse.
--
