Living

Deep breath, roll with it. Alegro! Nota Bene: the following is fiction, hence the title!

Here I sit in ABS vent, pulse quickened, heart racing, stomach singing a song of discontent. I was disconnected, but now I’m back down on terra firma. Shaking, skin aflush. Sweaty, and my face leaving no doubt as to my state of mind; eyes half-open, lower lip still quivering and a bloody nose to boot. I think about how I must be so incredibly subverted from my original purpose, and stress induced nosebleeds — why is this happening to me?

Breath out, slowly. Don’t hold it in. More after the break.

I hit the talk button on my mouse: “Chloro?” and hope to hear Jon answer back. He does, and he sounds like he’s in a good mood. Too bad I’m going to have to ruin that. We hop down to the empty Group_7 channel. My voice cracks a bit… “Jon… I, I don’t even know where to start explaining this… I met this chick last saturday, I’m pretty sure I told you about her.” His reply, the standard “Aye.” Confident that he’s on board, I continue. “Yeah, I came home to her in my living room, sitting there with a look of complete contentment. Smiling like a chesire cat. She doesn’t have a key.” Jon starts to talk, but I continue, a low frequency twitter in my voice. “Yeah. I made small talk with her about how she hadn’t fallen asleep on me and that she’s got nothing to be embarrassed about while taking my work shirt off and — very cautiously — getting my gun. It’s not loaded. As soon as I got it, I showed it to her. Not pointed, but pointed down - her eyes went wide like the open ocean, blue and empty. She froze. I told her that if she didn’t get out of the house right now, I was going to call the police. She bolted. I don’t know what to do.”

Jon keys his talk button for just a moment, and pauses briefly before he speaks. “Dude, You’re fine. That’s incredibly fucked up and bizarre what happened but you kept your head on your shoulders and did the right thing. Any woman willing to pull a little B&E to get into your place should be treated with extreme caution. To be quite direct: call the cops NOW - she BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE. I know you’re freaked the fuck out, but calm down and call the cops. You’re okay, and she’s insane, and she just broke into your house - she needs to go to fucking jail!”

It doesn’t matter that he’s right. It’s terrifying. You go out and start having a social life that you enjoy and then this happens. She could be crazy. She could be trying to kill me. From my discussions with her, yeah, she’s as damaged as I am and then some. She… Could be trying… to kill me. I call the cops, let them know what happened in the short form. I hang up the phone, lean my head back, my neck aches and the knot in the left side continues to be pulled upon from both ends. I close my eyes.

Sirens in the distance…

It could have happened that way, you know. But don’t fret, It didn’t. My mind often runs situation simulations, my imagination wanders a bit sometimes - this time I decided to follow it, and write it down. I hope you liked it. This has been an enjoyable creative exercise that I saw fit to share. Comments please, and thank you for reading! <3