#matteo03.

they ( the nondescript ‘ they ’ used most often to refer to society ) said that it was possible to have too much of a good thing ( here, isolation ) and that people withered when they were deprived of socialisation ( did they ? ) and tv ratings went up for sex and fights, love and fear, but bea had conducted an experiment of her own, coming to the conclusion that she had quite a lot of a good thing, and she was not withering, and she didn’t know what the rank’s ratings were yet. just that she had half a point added to her total, and carnage she should have had the gall to pick up. there were several people she needed to speak to. maybe to apologise to. in truth, there was only one she wanted to speak to, and certainly not to apologise to. 

bea set her trap carefully, tugging on her oversized ‘ do you know where your dog is ? ’ sweatshirt with a chupacabra on it, an old present, carefully, her door swinging open carefully, walking to the kitchen and pouring her cereal carefully. if she was quiet enough, she would pass by unnoticed until the right person was stuck in her honey. but — there he was. bea leaned against the counter, holding her bowl like a shield. “ already used your angry bear weak-excuse-for-a-joke, cabrera, ” she said, “ got any other metaphors for me and my golden grahams ? ones that are actually funny, maybe ? ” she let her shoulders fall, forcing a laugh. “ you can still see my only tattoo if you want, you know. ”