It was late. Or early. Depending on when you start counting.
Everybody had gone. Except for her. She was the last man standing.
Soon they would be back. Keep her company. Too soon.
Until then, she’d enjoy the utter lack of nobody. The strange silence of speech.
They brought a bag of bagels. A medley of mastermind and mustard. It didn’t take them long.
The early swim was not her idea. Of course. She’s resilient towards spontaneous inclinations.
Diligent discussions. Subject of the day. But nobody really knew.
She didn’t bring a towel.
Submerged in open dialog. She was fighting to keep the water out.
The sharks didn’t leave anything to imagination. They slipped under her skin. Like vanilla ice cream.
She would’ve been fine. If only the sun had made it to the sky. That day it never did.
In the darkness. With them. She wasn’t. She couldn’t lit her cigarette.
They keept the moon out. Deliberately. Astronomical bastards.
She was ready. They were late. No theater tonight. Only the moons.
They pulled tricks out of striped sleeves. Made fun of her. She lost focus. So she stayed.
Hanged out while hanging in. Got moontanned. Got full. Got busted. Returned to jail.
The four scenes were previously published in March 2012 as four separate posts.