Richie looks at him. Eyes vacant. Bags pronounced under his eyes. His shoulders heavy. He looks tired. Drained. Light flickers. Blue raindrops. Another flicker and he sighs. Straightens before walking closer to Carmy. Shoulders hunched into him— covering him with his frame. Light finger brushes his under eye. Heavy hand drops on his shoulder. “Yer a fuckin’ dick cousin, but I can’t be here. What the fuck are you not gettin’?”
Carmy smacks his hand away. Brows furrowed. Tense. “Fucks that mean, asshole? What the fuck am I not getting? Huh?”
Tremor. Slight hitch. Hand shakes. A glitch in the matrix. Eyes widen a little. Surprise. Narrow. There is a question there. He holds back another sigh and shakes his head. “Forget it— forget i fucking said anythin’, yeah? You’re fucking impossible— absolutely impossible— fuck.”










