Room 7, Carriage House, Sunday morning
All the lights were on again. The stereo was on, and though she wasn't really listening, she'd occasionally catch a word or two of the songs as they drifted by.
. . . turn all the bright lights up,
turn the radio up loud.
There were times when she wondered if she had some kind of unconscious musical power. . . .
She still remembered everything. Escaping into sleep, dreaming of the little girl, it hadn't lasted long before the darkness and the nightmares came back. She'd been up for hours already.
What will I do when I don't have you
To hold onto in the dark?
The tiny television she'd bought when she found out the news of the town was televised lay smashed into tiny pieces in the corner she'd been huddling in the night before, her mallet lying amongst the ruins. Nadia in her window, where she'd been from the moment the sky had started to lighten, and stared out over the town. No little kids were running around, demanding fake smiles with very, very real guns. No one was missing. No one was dying.
No one had come yet to punish her.
She was waiting. For that, and for Walter. She remembered everything, including his promise to come back.
Look at that, would you look at that?
The way the ceiling starts to swerve,
What will I do when I don't have you?
When I finally get what I deserve?
. . .
Her stereo lay smashed into tiny pieces in the corner, on top of the tiny pieces of her television. . . .
. . . turn all the bright lights up,
turn the radio up loud.
There were times when she wondered if she had some kind of unconscious musical power. . . .
She still remembered everything. Escaping into sleep, dreaming of the little girl, it hadn't lasted long before the darkness and the nightmares came back. She'd been up for hours already.
What will I do when I don't have you
To hold onto in the dark?
The tiny television she'd bought when she found out the news of the town was televised lay smashed into tiny pieces in the corner she'd been huddling in the night before, her mallet lying amongst the ruins. Nadia in her window, where she'd been from the moment the sky had started to lighten, and stared out over the town. No little kids were running around, demanding fake smiles with very, very real guns. No one was missing. No one was dying.
No one had come yet to punish her.
She was waiting. For that, and for Walter. She remembered everything, including his promise to come back.
Look at that, would you look at that?
The way the ceiling starts to swerve,
What will I do when I don't have you?
When I finally get what I deserve?
. . .
Her stereo lay smashed into tiny pieces in the corner, on top of the tiny pieces of her television. . . .