gaiaserene
All the rage he held for her melted away with a single glance. She was miserable, that much was obvious. Her threadbare jacket was covered in filth and her mud streaked face was turned towards the scant warmth of the industrial lights.
She had a disorganized brain.
For hours on end she would work. Hair in her face, head bent over her task.
Then she would look
out the window
a bird caught her attention
Or a passerby
The scientists were stumped. After dozens of tests, zaps, electricity, injections, and what not IT was unchanged.
It was the great mystery at the time and the end of mankind.
IT was waiting, enduring.
For the end.
Around the man was an aura of blue cigar smoke that followed and swayed with his every twitching movement.
Eh, who needs em?
A thought, and then a whisper of a thought quickly brushed away
Maybe I do
Or at least a warm body
Cold empty beds
Reality
The fact that there was no bagels at the store devastated her. Of course, she could just go to the other grocery but what was the point?
No, she'll have to choose a different last meal.
He was waiting for the interview. Sweat poured down his neck and wet the stiff white collar of his uncomfortable rented suit.
He hated himself.
He was drunk, that was obvious. He strummed a stolen parlor guitar, singing "leave it aloooooone" over and over. He wore a sweat stained off-white tank top, ripped dress pants, his greasy hair unkept. Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes .
He joined in the slow progressive line towards the looming square, grey building ahead. Every single body in the line wore a suit and tie, black on white, their distinctive features melting off, noses, freckles, moles, color. Their thoughts soon blended into a monotonous hum as their feet mechanically moved their bodies towards hell.
He wanted her. He wanted to disect her brain, extract every thought and contemplation and keep going until he has found her essence...and then corrupt and destroy it.
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