captain's log → 10 → [ action ]
[ January the third at eleven fifty-five PM finds Jim in the lobby of the apartment building. He's sort of avoiding everyone and, frankly, sitting on the roof was getting old. Not to mention a bit cold. He was relatively used to being in the snow for long periods of time, but a man can only take so much.
So he sits in the dingy little entrance area, beer in hand, tracing designs on the window. The music's been back, though it's strange. It seems a bit less... there than it was and it's confusing the hell out of him. It had just been turning into white noise when it left and then came back.
And then there was that music lesson. He felt like an idiot for even doing it. He wasn't musically inclined and he knew that. Some part of him felt like it may have given him some idea as to what this place was, even if thinking that now sounded absurd.
He shakes his head and finishes off his beer. Damn this place for giving him even more reasons to brood. Damn himself for letting the dates and the memories and the mysteries get to him.
A glance to the clock and there's a wry smile pulling at his lips. Midnight. ]
Happy Birthday to me.
So he sits in the dingy little entrance area, beer in hand, tracing designs on the window. The music's been back, though it's strange. It seems a bit less... there than it was and it's confusing the hell out of him. It had just been turning into white noise when it left and then came back.
And then there was that music lesson. He felt like an idiot for even doing it. He wasn't musically inclined and he knew that. Some part of him felt like it may have given him some idea as to what this place was, even if thinking that now sounded absurd.
He shakes his head and finishes off his beer. Damn this place for giving him even more reasons to brood. Damn himself for letting the dates and the memories and the mysteries get to him.
A glance to the clock and there's a wry smile pulling at his lips. Midnight. ]
Happy Birthday to me.