Overhung

one of these days ive got to get organizized.

— travis bickle

Strung out and tired, bleary and weary. Cant even type. Bloody hell.

fugue

once upon a time there was a boy who lived.

1979. Belmont, Massachusetts. A second floor walk-up, evening. No, dark. He’s hungry. She is cooking a late dinner, chopping onions with steam pouring from the kitchen. His stomach growls. He’s exhausted from playing in backyards and running past dusk, the other kids disappearing as the sun set.

Mom, can I have a cookie?

—–

2013. Winter. A clean, well-lit office. He sits in front of an iMac, staring out the window, hunched over his desk covered in scribbled notes and flow diagrams.

Jeremy, can I borrow you for a second? We’re in the conference room going over the stuff for Crazy Cats.

Sure. Give me two minutes.

—–

1991. Emergency room. He bends over his knees vomiting into a steel bucket, doctors and nurses darting around tending to others. She comes barging in, yelling.

You’re ruining Easter!!!

Police physically pull her out of the room.

He has tears running down his face, and clutches his stomach as the charcoal works its way through his gut.