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Lol no…i dipped out early
Dont blame you
A long moment passes before I respond.
Hbu? Wyd tonight?
Three dots appear, disappear, and then reappear.
Only it’s not a text that comes in, but a blurry picture. Lifting my phone, I squint at what looks to be a bonfire blazing. There are shadowy figures in front of it, and I’m pretty sure one of them is Waylon.
Ah.
Babysitting?
HA HA. funny.
We go back and forth a bit more—he tells me he’s only had a couple beers; isn’t really feeling like walking home again, seeing as Waylon’s really bad at remembering he’s DD when it’s his turn.
My eyes start to feel heavy, along with my body. I lower the volume on the TV, flick off the lamp on the end table, and move my art supplies to the other side of the bed so I can dive under the covers.
On my side, cheek pressed to my pillow, I tell him I’m gonna crash.
Aight, tty 2morrow.
Night
The time now reads 10:20. I’ve been texting Mason for almost a whole hour.
Groaning, I lock my phone, shoving it under the pillow.
“This needs to stop,” I mutter into the empty room.
Save for the blue flickers coming from the television, and the red light on the smoke detector up in the corner, it’s dark.
Sniffing, I pull the covers all the way up to my neck, and close my eyes.
Drowsiness from the meds has my thoughts slowing, and untangling into nonsense faster than normal. But beneath the fuzziness, that curl of antsiness persists, chipping away at me.
Dreams nip at my consciousness, luring me into oblivion with flashes of color—Spider-Man swinging from rooftop to rooftop…
Little do I know as I fall into oblivion that those movie plans will never come to fruition.
That I’ll never even watch it, because it’ll forever be tainted by this night.
That tonight was the last normal, somewhat peaceful night I’d have for years and years to come…
They say when tragedy strikes, you remember every little surrounding detail.
What you were doing.
What you were eating.
What you said last.
What you were watching.
And the detail that will stand out to me most of all…
