#lanchat

             “Okay, I don’t know about you but I’m a hundred percent convinced hooking ducks is a lot easier if you’ve had at least three drinks. And why is that, Nora? you might ask— well, I’ll tell ya,” Nora said and hooked yet another plastic duck with a growing grin on her lips. “Because I tried this pre-drinks and I sucked at it. I tried again after two drinks and still sucked— and now I’ve had three and, I mean, look at me go, I’m killing it!”

“WAIT! No– Hold... Move back...” Kevin said, commanding the person with one hand as he held his phone with the other one, clearly taking a photo of himself. “You were blocking my light, honey,” he explained, then turning his phone to show the photo. “What do you think? It’s for Tinder.”

He’d been scurrying away little bits on money for weeks now, ever since his fight with Annie, hoping that he might be able to find a way to make it up to her. He knew that jewelry was some sort of ridiculous cliche, but Elijah had never claimed to be an original romantic. “What do you think?” he asked the person next to him with a resigned sigh. It wasn’t nearly as grand or beautiful as he would have hoped, but the simple necklace was all that he could afford.  

Walking down the street, arms filled with metal frames to bring back to the gallery from the only frame store in Lanford they partnered with, Charlie really began to wonder if working was what was best for him. If he should just focus his time on his photography and submitting to companies who might hire him, or if he should keep wasting his time working a job he didn’t even need. Mid-thought, as though God himself had given him an answer, Charlie tripped, and the frames scattered around him. He sighed, slid out of the way of passers-by, and lit a cigarette. Leaving the frames scattered across the sidewalk.

It was a very gradual process, but Ben was starting to feel like he was losing it day by day —- any hold he’d had on himself and his addictions slowly drifting away. Things had been going well, perhaps a little too well, so it was only a matter of time before things began to fall apart. He’d been out for the majority of the night, moving from place to place, drinking until the bar staff started to look at him funny. He’d stumbled from his fourth bar of the night, unsteady on his feet now, when he’d headed straight for a bench where someone else was perched. “You good if I sit here?” he questioned, his words a little slurred, and then sat before they had a chance to answer —- if he didn’t he was pretty sure he was going to fall down anyway.