RAW FICTION: STORIES FROM THE EDGES OF RAWTOWN
“This Is Just How Warzi Is”
Warzi doesn’t sleep.
Not because she’s a night owl. Not because she’s anxious. She just refuses to do what the universe expects.
And sleep is one of those things.
She lives in Grime Heights, on l Floor 3½.
There is no Floor 3½.
Which is exactly why she lives there.
Perfect.
Warzi’s flat is a combination of:
Unwashed sketchbooks
A kettle that hisses in French
A black cat named Glue
Glue only likes three things:
Tuna, strangers who don’t try to pet him, and licking condensation off lightbulbs.
They are soulmates.
Warzi’s day starts at 5PM.
She brews tea using a method she insists is “politically correct.”
She then watches the sunset and tells it to “do better next time.”
Glue sits on the windowsill judging all of Rawtown.
Warzi joins him.
She doesn’t go to work because no one has ever successfully hired her.
Instead, she goes “walking.”
When Heather asked her what that meant, Warzi replied:
“I pick a mood and follow it until it turns into a destination.”
Heather, being Heather, tried to plot this on a map once. The map caught fire.
Warzi's hobbies include:
• Drawing things no one asked for
• Rearranging the street furniture in Stitch District
• Writing fake Authority memos and leaving them in vending machines
• Staring at lamp posts like they owe her money
Everyone in Grime Heights has a theory about her.
“She’s a lost philosopher.”
“She’s undercover but doesn’t know it.”
“She’s actually four raccoons in a hoodie.”
None are correct.
Even Warzi doesn’t know the truth, and she thinks that’s hilarious.
Her weirdest friendship is with Heather.
They bonded over mutual distrust in everything.
Heather is precise, technical, controlled. Warzi once sent her a drawing of a toaster having an existential crisis.
Heather framed it.
They sometimes meet at RTL Station 9½ — another place that "doesn’t exist."
They sit on a bench and discuss politics using metaphors involving soup.
