💔 let's go
the ‘people who hate happiness’ meme | @wickiisms
SHE ISN’T REALLY SURE what she’s doing here ; it’d been nearly an entire month since … since everything ( since she’d barely escaped DEATH ) — who’s to say the guy would even remember who she is? ( she mentally snorts at that — her name & face had been plastered everywhere on the news for several weeks now to her great discomfort & irritation. he probably couldn’t escape her just like she’s been unable to escape him, or the whole shoot out in general. )
the small piece of paper that had an address, that she’s memorized by this point, scrawled on it crinkles further in her hand as her fingers bend & clench into an anxious fist. kyle wick. that’s his name. she glances out her car window again ; she sees him from where she’s parked across the street, in front of an unfinished building & decked out in a similar helmet as the construction workers there, though not dressed in a uniform. he’s conversing with one of the workers, pointedly referencing to some large sheet in his hands all the while.
“this is ridiculous,” she mutters to herself as she looks away, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. he doesn’t know her, & she doesn’t know him. not really. they’re just two strangers that helped keep each other ALIVE.
( so why the hell has she been visiting this same location for a week hoping to catch him there? & more importantly now that she has, why couldn’t she bring herself to go & talk to him? )
she releases a breath, knowing this wasn’t going to stop pulling at her until she did something. she’s been trying to put this entire ordeal BEHIND HER & move on with her life, but she knows now ( or rather, she’s known for awhile ) that she wasn’t going to be able to do that until she talks to him.
so with a sense of resigned finality, she gets out of her car & walks over to where he’s stood, hoping she appears more confident than the unease & tension she feels all over instead.
// 63. our muses being the sole survivors of a shootout.
