#int.mateo

location: joey’s car, on the way to grief support group

“Okay, here’s the important thing,” Joey tells her former neighbor, keeping her eyes on the road while she blindly reaches over the turn down the volume dial on the radio. 

“If you don’t want to share, you don’t have to. I think I went to this place about six times before I ever opened my mouth. If you just want to sit and listen, that’s cool. It’s normal. But also, you know, if it’s too much and you wanna get lost then just reach over and pinch me. We’ll bail and grab ice cream or something. Okay?”

@lotvsboy

Ata was shivering in the cold, in the fear, in the heat, in the conflict of everything that was happening, in the separation of her from the rest of the world. She was still shaky from trying to get Soren down from the high ledge he was determined to perch onto, shivering in the cold that was reaching temperatures far higher than anything she was used to, unable to reconcile elements of her brain from the rest of life.

(There was also a temptation - to just run out into the white - to seek freedom for some time, even though it would ultimately bring her death. Would she want to die - as long as it meant she was free?)

She found herself inside one of the abandoned buildings around the Carnival, a gift of a blanket wrapped around her thin shoulders, wishing desperately for a bottle of alcohol to help get her brain to reach something quiet amongst the screaming. 

And alcohol meant Mateo, who had offered a listening ear and a teasing quip every so often, whenever she found herself grasping for vodka as a way of relieving the pressure that built on her chest every day she watched the world roll past without her.