Fyre stared out the window blankly, her mind racing a thousand miles a second, refusing to home in on any one particular thought. It kept flitting from memories, worries, hopes, to alarming fears and a growing anxiety. Her feet started a tapping rhythm which she stilled instantly, instead her fingers clenched tightly in her lap, unseen under the table, crushing a couple square inches of her dress. The more her mind twisted and ran in turmoil, the stiller her body became, to the point where to a passer-by she appeared no less than a statue. Her eyes remained focused on the drops hitting violently against the window as though trying to break their way through to the warmth inside. She felt tears well up and almost spill over in a parody of the trails slowly rolling down the window. She willed them to stop in their path and sat unblinking till they dried up and disappeared.
Once she was sure that nothing in her manner or movements would give away the state of affairs within, she slowly and carefully moved, reaching inside her bag to pull out her headphones. She tuned in to the sound of Damien Rice singing his way through Cannonball and smiled ruefully, before turning up the volume a slight notch. She put the book away. She was in no state to read it or digest it right now.
Three months and counting. Lylah had said on day two, "In two months time you will no longer even remember, let alone care." She had replied; "You are wrong. Come and ask me in two months what I have forgotten and what I have not."
Lylah Had not come back to ask. She didn't need to, she had seen for herself how things still stood. Despite that Fyre, only very occasionally spoke up about what still went on inside, but there wasn't always need for words between friends was there? Lylah wasn't stupid and Fyre had never been very good at hiding her emotions when they ran strong. Well actually, that wasn't entirely true. There had been a time when she had controlled her self and her feelings with an iron hand. But that had been before things in her life had started to slide down one by one, slowly but very surely.
"Would you like anything else?" The voice only just made it through the music and even then the words were fuzzy. She turned the volume down and turned to see who spoke and realised it was one of the waiters. She guessed what the question must have been and smiling vaguely shook her head, her eyes already back to gazing out the window.
When was it things had gone so terribly wrong? Did it even matter when or how? What should she do now? Was it enough, all that she was already doing? What will happen? In a year's time or two? Could it be fixed? How could she fix it? The questions just kept turning over and over through her head. One after the other, shooting through before she could even begin to formulate an answer for the question gone before. Some of these thoughts couldn't even be formed in to words, they just rose like a diaphanous cloud, dark and heavy with unspoken and unfathomed foreboding. Wordless, mindless anxiety. Fear of something, perhaps everything and because she could not pin down her concern, she could not reason it away. And like a wheel, her mind just kept turning, from the moment she woke to the one where she lay down to sleep. Then they followed her in to her dreams.
