Turn Off My Pain Inhibitors

*nerdy girl and popular girl walk into bathroom together*

Popular Girl: *puts on make-up in the mirror* I watched that show you're so into last night.

Nerdy Girl: You did! I knew I'd convert you sooner or later!

Popular Girl: I didn't like it.

Nerdy Girl: Seriously!? Come on!

Popular Girl: Like, the effects are cheesy and the plots don't make sense. The British accents are weird too.

Nerdy Girl: The effects are part of the charm. You have to actually pay attention to the plot. Also, British accents rule. It's how real English is supposed to sound.

Popular Girl: *puts on lipstick and smacks lips* It's just not my thing. I don't like sci-fi space stuff. I like action, drama, realistic stuff.

Nerdy Girl: Speculative fiction tends to influence science, so everything you're dismissing now could be very realistic in a few decades.

Popular Girl: I don't pay attention to that stuff. I like the here and now.

Nerdy Girl: *sighs* Whatever, enjoy being boring.

Nerdy Girl: *notices a string coming out of the nape of popular girl's neck*

Nerdy Girl: *lightly tugs on string*

Popular Girl: *stops moving entirely*

Nerdy Girl: Are you alright?

Popular Girl: *remains silent and still*

Nerdy Girl: *completely pulls string out of popular girl's neck*

Popular Girl: *disappears in a puff of smoke*

Nerdy Girl: ...Oops.

*a decade ago*

Some Lady: I think I'm the only one who can see it.

Friend: See what?

Some Lady: The knitter. It's sitting up on that building there. It's huge, and it's just knitting.

Friend: What does it look like?

Some Lady: It looks big and pregnant. But, its stomach is made of yarn. It's just knitting. People, animals, buildings, clouds. Millions of things.

Friend: That sounds weird.

Some Lady: I think it's god.

Friend: Mmm.

Some Lady: There's nothing on the horizon. Like, there's nothing beyond it. Everything just starts where it sits. Now that I think of it. I've never been beyond that building. There's nothing but white out that way. Emptiness.

Some Lady: *looks at fuzzy yarn hands*

Friend: *lights up cigarette*

Friend: The I-95 takes you into Baltimore that way. But, you should write a book about that before anyone else does. I'd read it.

Some Lady: I don't like to write about what's on my mind.

The Knitter: *opens third eye on its belly*

*in the present, a week after our initial events*

*missing poster with popular girl's face is blown away by a careless wind*