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Post by k80 on Feb 15, 2013 22:43:45 GMT -5
Lisa blinked.
She heard him coming when he neared the large, vacant hotel meeting room. She knew it was the Swede, she recognized his walk from the sound: it was the walk of someone with power, someone who commanded a certain respect, whether he knew it or not. It was annoying to her to hear and she ignored his approach.
She stared at the window, crystal clear as though the window-washer would descend on his platform, tired after a hard day's work. This was as clean as they would ever be from this day on. She wanted to break it. Why should it have to suffer the disgrace of becoming sullied, of weather beating it down, of immortality as a lesser being.
Somehow she thought this line of thinking may not be about windows at all.
The Swede was yelling at her now.
She ignored him with great effort. She stared at the window.
Was the man on the floor moving? Had he died? Maybe. Had she died?
She looked down at her dirty hands, her nails were broken and her fingers.... they looked alien. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was one of these creatures walking around, thinking about windows, thinking about death. Maybe she was one of them. Maybe the Swede was right to yell at her. Maybe she was...
The gun was cold now. It no longer singed her flesh. She was cold.
Her eyes burned, how long had they been open? Her throat was dry. She thought about standing, thought about it while the man yelled at her, thought about it as a stream of blood trickled down the edge of the window. She felt like crying.
Her hands moved, and she watched them as they did. How odd. The hands pulled at the zipper on her duffel bag, the one she seemed to remember bringing with her. The hands couldn't open it, there was something in the way.
I'm in the way.
She gave up on the water, stared at the blood, tuned out the yelling, let her head tilt back, and said "Hey, you." in a voice from another world, a voice from another time, another her.
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