Maybe I'm Just Allergic to Joy

Traceur

Colette's Spike Airs arrive a week after payday.

Edgar had almost forgotten about it until he walked into the gift shop that morning. Colette was happy. He liked it when she was.

"Hey, hey, hey!" She beamed. "Look what just arrived today!"

"Yeah?" Edgar had asked before looking down to where she gestured.

Spike Airs.

And if he looked closely enough, the edges of some Spike socks too.

The seconds tick by. He feels like he's underwater.

"That's awesome." He glances back up at her. "You finally got 'em! How's it feel?"

"So comfy!" She hops a little for show. "They're really good — man, I can't believe I finally have them!"

"Great!" He smiles. He thought he was doing okay. He thought he wasn't that doomed. "You got 'em!" He repeats, like some stupid person. He stocks the shelves. He breathes. Maybe he needs more or less sleep. Maybe he needs Monster.

He shouldn't be slipping back down so fast, and harder than ever, into the hole of Spike pain. But three months comes crashing back down and pulling him. He shouldn't be slipping back down so fast, and harder than ever, but now he feels stupid and deeply, incomprehensibly painful and wrong. Edgar? Call me Eggar 'cause my heart cracks so damn easily. What a joke. The counter almost looks like a reprieve. He carries himself there after stocking.

He stares at a piece of the wall.

"Hey Edgar, you know what else is super awesome?"

"What?"

"I got more Spike material for my scrapbook too!" Colette says in an awestruck whisper, like a child divulging the secret of a fairy land. Edgar turns with a helpless smile.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah! Good thing, I just happened to come across Spike when I came here this morning! And I got this!" She flips through a couple pages and lands on one with a red petal taped on it.

Spike's red petal.

Edgar resists the urge to grimace. A petal?! That's basically hair fall! He puts a hand to his mouth instead.

"Wow!" He'd ask how she got a hold of it, but he feels too fragile right now. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, Spike... such a cutie pie..."

Normally, this would be only slightly annoying. Laughably sad at worst. Cringe. Not Colette cringe. Edgar is cringe. Can't he stand her being happy? Can't he just stay happy? There's a leech draining him from the inside. He doesn't feel well. He can't tell her that, this doesn't seem like a valid reason to skip work. And what about next time? What about every day after this? He just wanted to live with this. He just wanted to be better than this. Lovable old Spike, looming, eternal, telepathically telling him you got nothing on me. "I'm sleepy," he says.

"Aww. Wanna nap? We still have time." For once, Edgar almost wishes he could make his pain more obvious. He doesn't blame her for not realizing. It's easy to pass this off as his normal doom and gloom character. But what would happen if she knew? He doesn't know what he'd want her to say.

"No," he says, just to spite her in the smallest of ways. He leans on the wall and stares at the door, tears almost leaking from his unblinking eyes until the work day starts.

-

Work was kind of a blur. Transactions were made. One customer tried to get a rise out of him but gave up once they saw the indifference in his empty eyes. It was a distraction.