#praeker

                                          Cigarette  held  between  two  fingertips  as  the  lights  flicker  in  the  small  diner;  the  kind  of  lighting  that  one  never  WANTS  to  be  in  yet,  here  he  is  a  two  a.m.  That  coffee  of  Jackson’s  has  long  ago  gone  lukewarm  as  silver  spoon  that’s  held  in  free  hand  pushes  liquid  around.  Looks  to  the  right  as  Camille  goes  to  sit.  Makes  one  wonder  just  who  the  hell  was  lonely  enough  to  sit  at  a  shitty  diner  into  the  wee  hours  of  morning.  Waitress  gestures  to  coffee  cup  as  he  nods,  and  pushes  it  forward.  A  refill  is  in  DIRE  need.  Then  raises  cigarette  to  lips  as  he  inhales,  ❛❛ We’ll  cast  some  light,  and  you’ll  be  alright           ❜❜  words  exhaled  in  a  cloud  of  smoke  as  another  finger  goes  to  flick  as  in  ashtray.  He  himself  doesn’t  know  just  what  the  words  mean,  though  it  looks  like  she’s  in  some  need  of  reassurance.  That’s  how  it  is  in  suffocating  small-towns,  towns  in  which  they  never  let  you  forget  who  you  were  ten  years  ago,  much  less  forgive.  

* DARK THRILLING & / OR CRIMINAL STARTERS : OPEN

maggie  held   the   phone   against   her   ear   and   felt   a   shiver run   down   her   spine   when   hearing   camille   preaker’s  voice   on   the   other   side   of   the   line.   she   glanced  over   her   shoulder,   making   sure   her   girls   weren’t  planning   on   sneaking   out   of   their   beds   and   coming  downstairs   because,   whenever   camille   called,   things   that one   oughtn’t   think   about   too   much   had   a   tendency  to   become   too REAL. the  girls   were   growing   out   of   their   princess   phase,   she  didn’t   want   them   to   think   the   world   to   be THIS  UGLY ; not  yet.                  ❛            i’m  not.         ❜               she   admitted   with   a   smile.     ❛    got   a shift   in   a   few   hours.   guess   that   port   wine’s  gonna   be   sleeping   alone   again.    ❜             maggie   chuckled   softly   and   for   a   moment   she  thought   that   maybe   camille   had   called   for   a  chat. nothing  more. that  maybe   this   could   be   a   thing   in   her   life   ;  casual   talking   in   which   no   one   was OUT  FOR   BLOOD. but  women   very   rarely   lived   out   their   lives   without  ever   becoming SCARRED ... one  way   or   the   other. the  nurse’s   green   eyes   shifted   across   her   coffee   table,  trying   to   imagine   where   the   redhead   might   be.   and  no   matter   the   scenario   she   pictures   (   a   bar,   an  empty   office,   her   bed   ),    maggie ALWAYS sees  her   alone.   the   thought   is   almost   too   sad   to   bare,  so   she   doesn’t.   her   finger   draws   small   circles  over   her   leg   as   the   silence   settles   between   the  two.   none   wanted   to   take   the   next   step   in   that  conversation   ;   reality   was A-KNOCKING at  their   doors   and   none   of   them   were   prepared   to  answer. this  wasn’t   a   courtesy   call. when  maggie   speaks   again,   there   are   no   smiles   to   be  found. 

                 ❛         where  are   you,   camille?  ❜            

       come on, babygirl. come scratch this surface.