- Polite Fictions

Charlie thought about the moments. About the possibilities. How everything curled around everything else. Relative moments in subjective space. There were no longer absolutes in her head. She wasn't sure how she even managed to wander the corridors she couldn't perceive and yet that's exactly where she was. She knew that in her toes.

She glanced at Slick, glanced around the room, glanced inward and upward and outward. Her fingers curled and she tensed and…

"None of the poetry in your head fucking matters," Slick whispered.

"What?" Charlie asked, unsettled. A curtain dropped. The world grayed out and faded back in with Technicolor highlights, blinding clear and diffuse enough to lick the edges clean.

"You heard me. Tell me you heard me," Slick said, voice rising.

"I heard you."

"Then you know."

"Not at all. What the fuck? What do we do? What's even going on?" Charlie took a deep breath after speaking, holding it until her lungs burned. She exhaled explosively. Then she smacked Slick.

"You planned this!" she accused, a finger jabbing out toward him, "You planned all of this!"

"No," he said calmly, "I didn't. Think it through."

Charlie thought. She thought about the placement of people, the actions of each and the forces that engulfed them. No, none of the poetry in her head fucking mattered. None of it. The here and now, the yesterday and tomorrow - those held her close again.

"I…" she started, uncertainly.

"You planned it," Slick said, "way back when. Remember? You told me once, before you forgot. A concert. A song. You said you were running split head. You were moving. Don't ruin it on me. Remember?"

Charlie wanted to throw up. "If I planned this why didn't I…"

"Remember until now? You planned that, too. 'None of the poetry in your head fucking matters.' was the key. You told me when the time was right to say that to you. To end it. To start it fresh." Slick sighed and rubbed his cheek. He was thoroughly sick of being slapped.

"But then… why? Now what?" Charlie asked, her own memories slowly fuzzing back into life.

"You tell me. You always do," Slick said with a hint of a smirk. "You always do."

Hand in hand they walked off, the world left behind them, into tomorrow. The bodies, the violence, the fear and the blood all got left behind, ignored and drained of their life. Because she had planned it that way, you see. She always did.