Snapshots of Promises
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- Parts 2
Excerpt from the book.
By the time the two had reached the front of the mom and pop dinner that they were regulars at sage was finishing her long winded tale of how she saved a race of plant people with a glow stick and a chihuahua in a sweater. "The the thing exploded but it was like a glitter bomb or something, and my face was covered in like this pink goop!" Sage cried, excitedly gesturing while walking into the dinner while Alex held the door open for her.
"Hey there strangers, did Sage have another one of her dreams?" Their usual waitress clair asked, pulling a blue robot shaped pen from her apron pocket. Alex nodded while Sage laughed, "It's not a dream, I'm telling you, I'm destined for greatness" with a puffed out chest she slid into the booth with as much grace as she could. Unfortunately for sage, this meant she tripped half way down and plopped on the booth with a heavy "Oof!"
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haphephobia
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Scott's vision is fuzzy. Hazy. Unfocused like it hasn't been since the LASIK. He vaguely wonders why, but his head hurts so much he's distracted and can't figure it out. He thinks for a second that he's drunk. That he's given himself the mother of all hangovers. But his shoulder and his arm and his chest and his side and his leg also hurt-shit, his shoulder really hurts-and he's never been drunk enough for that to happen before. Plus, if he's not mistaken, that's his steering wheel in front of him, through the haze and the dust and the noise and the red and whatever the deflated white thing is. Regardless of how drunk he's been, he would never be drunk in the driver's seat of his car. Fuck. Fuck, he hurts. The spiderweb pattern across his windshield is kinda pretty though, sparkling like that in the sun. Blink.
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