((when your character is disconsolate, ficlets are all you've got))
This plane is definately crashing
This boat is obviously sinking
This building's totally burning down
Spinner was outside himself the next day. He simply floated in halfconsciousness. He drove himself to the hospital. The pain of gripping the steering wheel with a torn and broken hand didn't even register. Once at the hospital, he simply sat there as a nurse put his left ring finger in an imobilizer, stitched shut the gashes in his right cheek and right arm, and taped bandages over his knuckles. He wasn't even sure it was actually happening. Luckily, the nurse didn't ask questions, and simply took his insurance information (half mumbled) and allowed him to leave.
He started for home, but changed his mind. He didn't want to pick up all of the broken glass, he didn't want to worry about the blood stains on the carpet, and he certainly didn't want to talk to his sister.
He turned up his stereo, turned his car around, and simply drove. He drove, and drove, and drove. He didn't think about Marco, or Dylan, or Manny, or school, or his family, or anything. He didn't think. He just drove. And when he found himself in another town, he simply got gas and turned around to drive back. And forth, and back and forth. And back.
((OOC: I am the queen of short ficlets. Bow down, beehotches :P))
This boat is obviously sinking
This building's totally burning down
Spinner was outside himself the next day. He simply floated in halfconsciousness. He drove himself to the hospital. The pain of gripping the steering wheel with a torn and broken hand didn't even register. Once at the hospital, he simply sat there as a nurse put his left ring finger in an imobilizer, stitched shut the gashes in his right cheek and right arm, and taped bandages over his knuckles. He wasn't even sure it was actually happening. Luckily, the nurse didn't ask questions, and simply took his insurance information (half mumbled) and allowed him to leave.
He started for home, but changed his mind. He didn't want to pick up all of the broken glass, he didn't want to worry about the blood stains on the carpet, and he certainly didn't want to talk to his sister.
He turned up his stereo, turned his car around, and simply drove. He drove, and drove, and drove. He didn't think about Marco, or Dylan, or Manny, or school, or his family, or anything. He didn't think. He just drove. And when he found himself in another town, he simply got gas and turned around to drive back. And forth, and back and forth. And back.
((OOC: I am the queen of short ficlets. Bow down, beehotches :P))