To Kiss A Corpse Goodbye

1 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑

Its deep brown walls and tinted windows almost felt like an escape from the outside world. When ash flew down from the sky out there, and she was inside, she could convince herself it was just snow in July. The walls and windows offered that freedom. That shelter.

Adelaide fingered the ashtray sitting on the middle of the table, tilting it to one side, then another, in a slow rhythm. The ashes and used up cigarettes rolled from one side to another. The ashtray was a sort of dark brown glass, with the logo of the bar printed on. The majority of the logo had faded away with time. Adelaide brushed her finger against the part that was missing. If she squinted, and lied to herself, it almost felt like nothing had changed. As though the bar and the ashtrays were all still young. As though she were still young.

Fresh faced and free from a lifetime of mistakes.

The young were the most capable of adaptation, in her eyes. Rubber children. No amount of catastrophe mattered to them, because they couldn't understand that which they had never lived with. So in a sense, she wondered if being young would have made living in a world like this easier. If she had no memories of a blue sky, there was no way to miss it, right? The sickening sweet scent born from the almost mystical rot of a collapsing civilization would be nothing but the smell of air. The bar wouldn't need to be a refuge. It would just be a relic.

The bell above the door let out a soft ring. Adelaide's head jerked up– and then she lowered it again, rather disappointed. The man who had walked in was not the man she was waiting for. She sighed, turning her attention back once again to the ashtray. This time, however, she could not get lost in her own thoughts. She tilted the tray once again to the side, well aware that the conversation she was in for wasn't going to be a fun or pleasant one. The knowledge of that being slapped in her face again was the chain which held her mind in place.

She tilted the tray a little too far to one side, and its contents spilled across the dark wood of the table. Fuck's sake, Adelaide swore. An exasperated breath puffed its way out from her nose. She shook her head violently after a moment of thinking. She would clean it up on the way out– even if it didn't really matter anymore. She doubted the owner would make a fuss. It would've been some strange priorities to make a drama about ashes on a table at the end of the world, but she didn't want trouble either.

"Making messes as always, 'Laide," Forrest called. He stood outside the booth, smiling at her. She barely recognized him. He had become gaunt, dark circles had appeared under his face, and he had committed the great sin which he'd once declared he would never fall to. He'd grown a mess of patchy stubble all across his jaw. Forrest had always been a little homely in appearance, but Adelaide had never seen him quite so dishevelled. Even as children.

She couldn't help her laughter. "Talk about yourself on that one first, buddy," she said, shaking her head. "You look god awful. What happened to you?"

"Nuclear transport is a nightmare," he replied, dryly. He took a seat across from her. He took pause at something on his chair, before sitting down. "Everyone at my station's been arguing– almost nobody wants to take the nukes to space, but we can't fight our orders."

"I can't imagine why," Adelaide responded, dryly. "You've been taking the brunt of it?"

"Someone tried to put a snake in my mailbox as an assassination attempt– and the only reason they didn't succeed is because the thing froze. I'd never been so terrified checking mail in my life. Haven't checked in the box in a week since."

"You have my deepest sympathies, Snakeman." Adelaide gave a sly grin, and blew on the ashes. They fluttered up, forming a small cloud between the both of them. The cloud dissipated as fast as it had come.