(no subject)
Desmond had been offered a sketchbook again - a blank one this time - and had it open on the table in front of him. He just stared at it, like he'd done with the other ones, as if he were unsure of what to do with it. It wasn't like he had any paints or brushes or even a pencil, so what was he supposed to do. He flopped against the back of the sofa with a sigh.
It'd been over a week and he still didn't know what to do with himself. Everything he'd known - except for Gideon, which almost didn't surprise him - was gone. He still couldn't even wrap his head around the fact that he'd died, only to wake up on some weird fucking island that had no way off, supposedly. His cell phone didn't work, either.
He drummed his fingers against his thighs and waited. Maybe today would be the day Julie walked through the door. Maybe today would be the day he woke up in a hospital or something, with Julie sitting there waiting for him.
It'd been over a week and he still didn't know what to do with himself. Everything he'd known - except for Gideon, which almost didn't surprise him - was gone. He still couldn't even wrap his head around the fact that he'd died, only to wake up on some weird fucking island that had no way off, supposedly. His cell phone didn't work, either.
He drummed his fingers against his thighs and waited. Maybe today would be the day Julie walked through the door. Maybe today would be the day he woke up in a hospital or something, with Julie sitting there waiting for him.