(Untitled)

[e_delmar]

Ennis screams.

He screams and throws things and punches people.

Only he don't do any of that, does he? He can't.

Comments

[silver_flecks]

"CoUlD," she sing-songs and sits at his feet.

"ThInKiNg oF a NuMbEr BeTwEeN ElEvEnTy ThOuSAnD aNd PinEaPpLe JuIcE. GuEsS wHiCh OnE anD WiN A PrIzE."

She sits at his feet and digs out a marker from the bedclothes because of course there's one there if she thinks there should be and starts to write poetry under his toes.

You can't see it, but that doesn't mean it isn't there.

"Hi."

[e_delmar]

Ennis narrows his eyes, and he wonders, maybe, if Desire fed him one too many of them pills (or if he should be takin' more instead) and he keeps coughin' as he looks down at them pills he spilled on the floor from where Desire left 'em open.

[silver_flecks]

"It'S a MaTtEr Of OpInIoN," she says cheerfully and make no move to help as she doodles a cross a bird a heart a tear and smiles up at him.

Her eyes don't match, and one's laughing and one's crying and both have silver flecks swimming across them.

"YoU wAnT tO bAnG tHOsE FisTs AnD cAn'T, BuT thE gHoStS doN't CaRe. YoU cAn SeE tHeM AnYwAy. It'S KiNdA gEnErOuS. AlMoSt. IN tHe WaY WhErE yOu BleEd."

There's a pause, as she switches her marker for one the color of sunshine on the back of a truck in June.

"DoEsN'T CoUgHiNg LiKe ThAt BoThEr YoU?"

[e_delmar]

"Fuck d'you think?" is what he says, but mostly it don't come out, covered up by that cough she's so curious about.

She's fuzzy, down there at the foot of the bed, and it feels like what she's doing should hurt (seems there ain't nothin' that don't, anymore) but it don't.