#offsrail

Yeah, no real surprise there. most people who aren't from town don't do much more than pass through. (JERICHO, that is) a pit stop on the way to something new. the albatross that slowly suffocates with each trip around the sun, a reminder that he will never make it out of here alive. ❝ lucky you. ❞ and he means it too.

RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN, there are traps everywhere here. ready to draw unsuspecting travelers into the quicksand. don't plant your feet too hard on any surface, Never leave a mark. the kind of tips he would offer if someone asked how to escape.

and he can't help it, he's curious. ❝ where to next? ❞ the steam of coffee being poured into her mug -- a friendly barista stood beside the muffin tray. It's how he draws it in, the trust, the conversation.

"‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎yes!‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no, like‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎yes!‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she laughs in earnest, bonding with the other while bringing a cigarette up between her teeth.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎red lip-stain encircle the paper as she strikes a lighter behind cupped hands.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎one, two, three seconds pass as she inhales, and she's courteous enough to tilt her head to the side before before blowing it into the night time air around them.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎people walk by, dressed in their best club clothes, and jenny can't help but brush judgements in her thoughts as they pass‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(no one home would ever wear that, that's hideous, the material is cheap, so on and so forth).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the two of them stand in an interesting opposition, makeup smeared over their eyes rather than tightly painted with thin lines:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and for the first time since agnes, she's felt seen, felt found.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they said the same shit to me‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎–‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎here.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"

but some things are better off forgotten. wasted. swallowed down in the back-end of a bottle, and spit away in the morning. for now, she spins smoke through the chapped-ache of her lips, and inches herself further into a couch that's as stained as she is. ironic.