restart.

He got up to his feet and brushed off his pants. “Nice to meet you, Mim–…” He looked up and she was already walking away, talking about going to some bar or something. He quickly jogged up to her and scratched at the back of his head. “Ah, sure, I guess…” he could barely afford to feed himself, so he’d probably just get a glass of water or something. Water was free, wasn’t it? As long as he didn’t buy any expensive drinks, he could continue buying the cheapest groceries to feed himself one week at a time.

“You… uh, you okay?” he asked quickly. 

She let out a huff of breath at his question. How could she answer that? After a drink, she told herself firmly, walking under flashing neon lights with Kyle by her side. She spotted a small bar at the corner of the street and made a beeline straight for it. "Let’s go in here,” she said, forgetting his question for the moment. She brought them over to the bar, which was hosting a small handful of heavy-headed men. 

   ❝I get what you’re saying. I think I may want more kids in the future but for now I enjoy having the balance. I think this lil’ one is excited for his sibling too. Isn’t that right?❞ Aristotle nods with some hesitation, which is an improvement from before. He has a fear he will be forgotten when the baby comes. Knowing this, his mother is doing her best to keep him involved in the whole process and emphasize that she has enough for the both of them.

Rosemary took note when she said that is the nicest thing which happened to her since she moved. It could easily be an exaggeration but she still finds it upsetting. It sounds as if she may need a friend. ❝Where are you from?❞ 

“More kids?” Mim exclaimed with a laugh and a gentle shake of the head. “Wow, you must be a great multitasker. I think two would be my limit.” If I ever do end up having kids, she mused. She focused on the woman’s next question; it brought a sense of nostalgia and sourness at the same time, not least because of all the complacent, self-absorbed people she knew, either from school or from somewhere much closer to home.

One thing James admired about the city was the ability to drown in the loudness of it, that’s what he needed right now. He was miles from home, from his family and from anyone he’d ever met but somehow it didn’t seem far enough ( you can’t outrun guilt ). Cities might have change but situations didn’t: the blonde still resided in an apartment roughly the size of a shoe box and worked at a dead end job that hardly paid the bills but he was modest so it was enough.

Outside of friends he shared his lunch break with, he didn’t have many friends – he wasn’t all that good at it. This prompted him to spend his nights wandering the city, unlike the confines Southside Chicago, there was inspiration at every corner. Tonight was different, though, he’d never seen the streets this desolate and he was stuck in his observation, the only thing pulling him out was a rush of smoke filling his lungs. “It’s fine, I’m good.” He said through a cough, it had been years since he picked up a cigarette – the scent was jarring to him now, “Yeah, I’m just not used to it, anymore – I quit a few years ago.” He offered up an explanation, “Couldn’t afford to keep up the habit.” 

Great, thought Mim, he just had to be clean. Although her cigarette was much needed, she eventually let out a sigh and let it fall to the dampened pavement, stamping it out. Maybe it was the fact that the stranger seemed a few years younger than her—just like her own brother—that had made her choose the more responsible route. The boy also gave her the impression that he was equally as lost as she was in life; he didn’t need to fall back into old habits just because of her misery.

It was getting too quiet in her apartment. Normally she’d be able to hear the people upstairs screaming at each other about money or the trash or which television show was on. But tonight—for whatever reason—everything had fallen to a ( hushed ) standstill. Only the occasional car could be heard honking. The problem was that now all Mim could hear were her own thoughts. And her thoughts had never been pretty things to mull over. 

She threw on a coat and headed downstairs into the night. There was a light mist in the air, and it threw a small ghostly halo around the tip of her cigarette. She took in a drag and blew it out slowly ( trying not to care that she didn’t have friends, that she was AGITATED almost all the time, and that she missed her brother ). She didn’t register the person walking past, and as a consequence she blew the next puff of smoke directly into the person’s face. 

 ❝Well he is a pretty good kid so I can’t complain much.❞ Rosemary places her hand on Aristotle’s back and then gives him a slight push so he can give her the flowers like he wanted to. The boy grins and holds out the bundle of daffodils. ❝True, but as tiring as it is having lil’ ones is still a blessing. I’m having a girl so now I’ll have one of each.❞ 

Mim receives the flowers from the child, and a wide, bashful smile blossoms on her face. “That’s probably the nicest gesture anyone’s ever given me since I moved here,” she notes, more to herself than her company. Her attention returns to the mother, and she feels a warm feeling inside her: this woman is good-hearted, you can tell her things and it’ll be okay. 

“Hey, I didn’t even go to college,” he admitted, to make her feel better for what she said. “Who the fuck cares? College life ain’t for me, ain’t for a lot of people,” he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and waved his hand at her. “…I got this, don’t worry.” 

“Well, there’s truth in that,” Mim replied, and despite her nonchalant appearance, she was slightly gratified by what he’d said. He was right, it wasn’t the end of the world she hadn’t finished her degree ( she just had to stop thinking it was ). 

Ferris smiled slightly and grabbed the plasters, sorting through the box until she found a good sized one and slid the box back. As she listened to the girl talk she walked over to one of the mirrors and pushed her hair back behind her ears, taking a moment to look at the cuts before she put the plaster on. She pulls back and looks over at the girl as she pulls the hair out from behind her ears, letting her hair cover most of the plaster. “You should complain. If you do the work you should get the pay.”

“No, not lost.” She pauses, trying to figure out what to say to the girl. “I’m leaving town for a little actually. Getting away from things.” She shrugs, gesturing towards the now covered cuts on her forehead.

She shrugged at the girl’s suggestion. “I do complain,” Mim replied, “and a fat lot of help that’s done me. She doesn’t listen. It’s her place, so her rules.” That was just how life worked in such a big city. It had its allure: the money, the lights and the lifestyle. But it was mostly an illusion. For most, their days ended in much-needed smokes, or empty beer bottles on the floor, or crying yourself asleep at night, or ( worse ) getting hurt by your neighbours.

Someone was injuring the girl standing in front of Mim, and suddenly she felt an obligation to fix that. But how? And why? The news was littered with stories of gang violence or domestic abuse. This was not new, and yet this felt so much more real and in her face.