you can't talk to a psycho like a normal human being

Strange night
The sky was solid all day today: grey and low enough, it seemed, for one to be able to take a stick and poke through it. Needless to say, the night was almost the same, except the light pollution from distant downtown rendered the sky red. My walk home from tutoring was particularly eerie, with all the pine trees rising black silhouettes against a smouldering sky. And there was no wind. It was like walking through a monochrome photograph of someone else's world until I hit the middle school. Then it became like walking through a monochrome photograph of some insane person's interpretation of my world. The middle school after dark is an ironic sort of loneliness incarnate, pitch black and empty but for the not-so-distant glimmer of soda machines, false signs of life.

And then across the street a boy (well, not so much a boy but not so much a man either) called to me, waving. He was walking with a friend. From the light of the lamp it appeared that they were both wearing suits.

"Hey! How's it going?" he asked.

"Pretty good, actually," I lied, still generally creeped out by the evening stroll.

We stopped walking and stood facing each other over two lanes of empty street, me swaying back and forth on my heels, the two of them just standing, their red-lit faces staring, squinting. He had the wrong girl, I think.

"Just walking home, eh?"

"Eup."

We started off in opposite directions.

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Content, graphics and layout Copyright © 2001-2003 Kathy Valdoria, of faintidea.net. Tools of mass destruction: Photoshop, Pablo, Notepad. Thanks, Katie Folk, for letting me (ab)use your digital camera, and Poe for not suing me for (ab)using your song.