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Booker agreed, flatly. The fact was he wasn't enthused about pain following him around. It didn't matter what situation he was in, what he wanted to do, or how far he distanced himself, the pain was always as close as his shadow.
He pitied them, the family trying to build a life around their void as if their son would someday be totally forgotten. He couldn't, or wouldn't, see it any other way; they were leaving to forget him.
"Huh?" Booker blinked over to Adam then quickly to the bartender. "Right..." He slid off his chair, steady but ungracefully all the same. He went to the phone booth and sat himself down before he picked up the receiver. For a while he listened to the dial tone, finding an annoying comfort in it's hum but soon it beat with distress and he had to hangup the receiver and pick it back up to reset the tone, this time he didn't hesitate to call the operator for a cab. The number he couldn't recall, no matter how familiar.
When that was finished he leaned on the wall, inside the booth, and closed his eyes to the sound of the receiver hanging up again. His hand then dropped to his lap and he blinked his eyes closed. Anna..
Precious and fragile things need special handling... - Post a comment
My God what have we done to you.