Spirit Of The End

Your name?

::In the mind of Rachel:: :

She looks away from me. I can see her eyes wide and distant. Her lips are neutral, betraying no hint of her trouble's remainder. Marie sometimes does this.

This uncertainty worries me.

I think, What if she never comes back, what if that pain stays and changes her.

The car is in park. I kill the engine. The sudden silence seems to pull her out of her haze.
She finally turns to me, her lips curling slightly, her eyebrows drawn together. "I'm sorry if I smothered you," she says.

I don't say a thing; I'm scared to lose control of my breath.

Out of the car, I hug her on the side like I always do. She somewhat hugs me back, placing her hand on the lower half of my back. We are both much more relaxed.

"That guy, by the way, what's his name?"

"No idea," I respond. We stop and stare at each other. The moment of absurdity prompts us to chuckle.

"You're irredeemable."

"I might just be," I say as we reach the door.

It is cooler inside and darker. I feel the same rush of anxiety from the last time we were here. Our steps are careful.

The man is working on a laptop this time. I am not familiar with the model. The internal components are bare; I can recognize some parts but not all. I figure he might have done some other work, but he is now simply replacing the battery.

He notices us. "Hi, everything is ready for you." He smiles. It is relaxed, like I remember. Looking closer, it is as if his eyebrows are in a permanent state of slight pleasant surprise. They are a bit bushy, so it is something subtle, a constant impression you only understand when you've questioned it.

"Yeah, thank you!" I say, a bit too giddy.

I realize it when I am too glittery and sound way too happy.

I feel like I have made a fool of myself, so I step back. He hasn't moved at all; I guess he didn't notice.

I step closer, clasping my hands on the counter in close proximity, rocking myself slowly.

I watch as he puts the electronic part in a plain white paper bag. His hands are slender and long, which makes sense because of his size. He doesn't make any errors in his movements. He hands everything to me, plus a receipt. "Again, we're really sorry for this," he says.

"There's no one to blame," I answer. We stay in a trance for a moment.

I look back at Marie; she is comparing CDs; it's Bjork's. I look back at him again. I do this thrice in quick succession.

"I want both of these," she says. She hands over the monochrome album and Just Dance.

"Oh, great choice," he says. He packs her things like he did for me.

I stand still. I don't know what to do with myself.

It is time to leave. My stomach turns.

Bzz bzz
<S.T.E corp's spirit of the end>
<Send us the name of the man with the doves tattoo>
<Deadline> <today 21:00>
<Accept> <?>

<30$>

-> <Accept>

It is 19:10; I still have time. Plus, it's pretty low stakes.

"Text me later," I say.

He waves goodbye.

I hurry to the door with Marie. I am smothered by my emotions, but not for long.

This time she lifts her arm for me to hold her hand.