Back, Exit

And My Bad Dreams make Me Get Up and Walk

   A family was driving home from a grocery shopping trip. A vehicle larger than the car that they were driving in turned and crashed into them.

   Which seemed to last a few seconds, an ambulance came. The paramedics told the son that "They're gone.". Tears streamed down his face, blurring everything--the flashing lights of  the ambulance, the car lights and the faces of the paramedics; making them seem like that they were faceless humanoids. The son went over to the bodies on the stretcher. As he was  looking at the decomposing body of his father, one grabbed his wrist. "Kirby!" it called out. His mother called out, "Kirby!". His name rang in his head.

   He was staring at into his coworkers slightly dark eyes. She was the one holding onto his wrist.

   "Did you lose your glasses, again?" she asked, thinking he had a spare on.

   "My... glasses...?". He feels the side of his face for a familiar touch of plastic. His glasses were there like always. He looks down the hallway. "Where am I?"

   "You're... at... work...?"

   "I'm at work..."

   "Are you okay...?"

   He squeezes the bridge of his brows, sliding his glasses upwards. "I need to clear my head."

   "You want me to take you to The Break-Room?"

   He nods.

   After leading Kirby to the couch in the breakroom and a few more minutes of silence in, Xandra asks if he wants to talk.

   "I do... just... not now."

   "I get it...". She leans onto him. "... Sometimes we have our days..."

   He puts his arm onto her and pulls her close.

   Really close.

   He had a shaky, tight grip on her that said, "I'm not ready to let go, yet."

   She looks up to see tears in his eyes and quickly looked down to keep her from crying herself. She holds onto him doing her best to match the pressure.