ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

71: I'm Stopping

Michelle 71

I find myself pouring over the schematics Gally has created. He is busy directing some of the Builders, although I'd say his directions are closer to yelling. Which is fair, because none of them are paying any attention.

Doug hasn't stopped glaring at me since I punched him in the face, although Ben has died down. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by me anymore than any of the other Builders are.

"Making any sense?" Gally looks over at me, crouching on the ground.

I can't really make eye contact with him. Like, some pit in my stomach is weighing me down to the ground, like some really heavy thing. I'm not that good with metaphors, nor am I good with feelings. I look up to see Dave winking at me, and I only feel a bit worse.

What happened to me being better than both of them? It's not like I'm not good enough for David, but it's also not that I am good enough for him, you know? I exist in this sort of in-between, where I am not nice enough, or normal enough for him, but he isn't fun enough for me. He isn't flames and arguing and plotting like Gally and I.

Which is why I feel weird with Gally's face hanging so close to mine. David, for some reason, seems to trust me with Gally, even though I have kissed him before and all but admitted to having some sort of awkward thing going on with the guy.

Gally doesn't bother with apologising, which I appreciate. I don't know how I could handle more touchy-feely emotional displays. If push comes to shove, Gally and I might just end up ripping our clothes off in a corner of the Glade.

I mean, whatever.

The newness of me being back at work has worn off. I slipped out for three days, to take a break or whatever. I can't even remember what I did. The days sort of blurred together, while I hid out in the Deadheads. Since David and I, or, I guess, I don't know.

I've been back for the last two days. Captain Gally wants all hands-on-deck, so to speak, while we lay down the flooring. We're hoping the Creators are sending up more tiles tomorrow with the Greenie. They ignored Gally's request last time.

Also, some pipes would be nice, or perhaps even a toilet. They didn't fulfill any of Gally's requests. I don't know why we are still building this when I don't think we are getting up the Supplies I need. They'd need to essentially pack the Greenie in a two by two by two foot box to get us what we want.

It reminds me of the Pipsqueak, and there is no apparent reason why.

I shrug, "I guess."

The plan makes sense, but also it doesn't. I have a feeling, a very strong one in my gut, that we will never finish building this. The feeling doesn't stem from my inherent pessimism either. It's some other weird location.

"It'll make more sense once we get deeper into it," I think he is referring to his messy scrawl, but honestly that's not what I'm not understanding.

I don't know what it is I don't understand anymore.

"Let's break for lunch," Gally tosses the thought over his shoulder.

Hammers and materials fall to the ground. The boys are quick to leave, though I don't blame them. Though we've laid the skeleton for the bathroom addition, we can't line its skin. We've got no flooring, no insulation, and barely any drywall left. It's not like they are sending anything new up to help either.