Sunday, December 18th, The Midnight Channel

[thepull_mods]

Who: The Port's Latest Shadow Televisions Stars! And Thousands of Home Viewers!
When: Midnight, Sunday, December 18th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary: Full Plot Details Here
Warnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?

Comments

[refrigeratormom]

[It opens a lot like the beginning of a movie about blue-collar life dissatisfaction. A montage of a pretty young woman in a small but adorably homey kitchen, making a sandwich for a very small child. It's nice and sort of provincial at first, but something's wrong. The cheerful smile on her face now frozen and gradually curdling into a grotesque grimace, how she smears the peanut butter angrily, like it's offended her in some way. The unnecessary slam in dropping the plate abruptly in front of the kid or even how, in this shot or that pan, the kitchen's charming 1970's features look drab and cloistering

PART 2.

[refrigeratormom]

[Mary slams the phone down hard enough to break it. Without a word, she picks up her purse and storms out of the kitchen, leaving the boy crying, the baby screaming distantly, and a pot roast burning on the stove.

The camera cuts to outside a beautiful, peaceful looking house. The front door slamming open shatters the brief second of peace when Mary storms out, walking with emotionless purpose. Screaming and crying can be distantly heard inside for the brief few seconds before the door slams shut.

She makes a swift beeline for a car in the driveway, gunning the gas so hard that pebbles and gravel go flying before she peels out hard, taking the turn too fast and speeding down a country road.

Camera cut: inside the car, Mary in full frame. She drives angrily for a minute but gradually, slowly relaxes, eventually rolling down the window and leaning her elbow out, taking lazy drags off that same cigarette. Over the roar of the road, you can hear her humming, "Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know if I'll be back again, oh

reaction :

[makes_asteroids]

[Oh Mary.

It wasn't that he didn't understand. He'd felt it, carrying for the New Mutants.

But still. He'd drop her a text in the morning.]

reaction/text?

[refrigeratormom]

[She would appreciate seeing something. Getting a grip on herself has been hard enough and really, talking to him tends to make her feel better about being thrust brutally into situations too big for her.]

text

[makes_asteroids]

[The next morning, about six, he does text.]

Good morning Mary. I hope you aren't asleep, or if you are, that this doesn't wake you. I also hope you are well. Perhaps we could meet for a cup of coffee later today? -- M

text

[refrigeratormom]

[A couple hours later:]

It didn't, you're fine. I'd like that a lot. Where do you suggest?

[Notice that question she avoided?]

Re: text

[makes_asteroids]

I have a standing reserved table at the Khave.

[He notices, and texts directions to Didi's coffee shop.]

text/action

[refrigeratormom]

That sounds wonderful. Thanks, Michael.

[She'll be there whatever time he suggests, rolling in right on time.]

Re: text/action

[makes_asteroids]

[He's already there, hugging a coffee cup, a plate of biscotti on the small table, which is tucked into the back.]

[refrigeratormom]

[She looks overly tired but waves with a small almost smile anyway and moves to hug him in greeting.]

Michael, hi.

[makes_asteroids]

[He stands up as she approaches - old manners - and returns the hug.]

Hi Mary. Good - [Quick check of the wall clock] - morning.

[refrigeratormom]

Good morning.

[Breaking off and taking her seat now.] How are you?

[makes_asteroids]

I've been better. Yourself?

[He passes her over a menu.]

[refrigeratormom]

...Same.

[makes_asteroids]

You saw that last night?

[Gently.]

[refrigeratormom]

[She looks at her hands and nods silently. It was much more than seeing.]