07.05.2003 - 00.12 PST
>click.<
Her name was Renee; she was the only one standing out of the three. Charlie was the other girl, sitting, looking slightly nervous, and Ezra, who never spoke, but was apparently named for a prophet. It was Renee who declared all of them to be reincarnated prophets with the humor of those who wish to be anywhere other than where they are. It was Renee who gave me the old flower, dried and dying, still clinging to the prettiness that most likely prompted her to pick it up in the first place, while Charlie remarked with sarcastic disdain that the three of them were usually there, staring east in the south park blocks, "doing something illegal." It was Renee who told me she liked me hair, it was Charlie who pointed out her own hippie-locks, and for once I didn't have the energy to be offended, because they were nice to me, a random boy who walked by, heard them talking about Iowa, and stopped to discuss my old home with them. It was Charlie that had roomed with a girl from Des Moines, who knew who Black Market Fetus was, who said she'd heard of my silly band even after I tried to avoid telling her. Renee and Charlie and Ezra, three people I could never see again, leaving the memory of their tired faces etched onto my memory in hazy street light, three people disappointed that they weren't stoned, just like any other person in the world. Somehow, the three minutes I spent talking to them made me feel like Dead Time had to end.
then - soon25.09.2003-Epilogue.
01.09.2003-
30.08.2003-Exeunt, the Moor.
28.08.2003-why?
27.08.2003-Last night, and august in general.