this is how it feels to be a stranger to one’s own world : first just the little things seem off. newspapers , brands. it eventually expands , too ; like how helena’s eyes don’t seem to be quite the same shade of blue , not what she remembers. the crosses are something else , too. anyway , not that it matters that much now. preoccupied with a bag of dry cat food & floating across her meager brooklyn apartment , she’s slow to peel the thing open ( careful not to repeat what happened last time , pretty sure there’s still pellets stuck behind her fridge . . . and under it ) .
❝ so , hel — hey ! ❞ a pause mid - sentence , floating even with the ground to catch stinky’s attention [ NOT SO FAST , YOU’LL GET A STOMACHACHE ] before she looks back up. ❝ anyway . . . i don’t really have an agenda tonight , so unless there’s an army of alien bugs hiding out in barbocino’s or somethin’ , looks like it’s just you & me. ❞ god , if that isn’t awkward ; sure they’ve come a long way , but still. ❝ anything in mind ? just , if you need me to punch a building down or whatever — . . . ❞ she gestures at herself ; she still has a sweater & jeans on. ❝ you know. might need a few minutes to change. ❞
@huntem