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7:47:pm: the Body/Head was horizontal-cushioned in bed underneath alt.-turquoise-silver striped covers & diamond-patterned sheets, ceiling-gazing and abject, hugging Herself.

contextually in & out of space-time, L and Rorschach were fidgeting behind the crenatures of Her psyche.

[Rorschach howled in frenzied regret, pushing and shoving the locomotive brain stalks, wailing against everything supraspinal.
“…nd-remember-running-hand-in-hand-thru-snowbanks-our-first-wintery-anniversary, and-were-smooshed-together-in-comfortable-lodging-at-colorado-ski-motel-in-velvet-booths-clutching-hot-mugs-of-pumpkin-spiced-mochas…” Rorschach anguished.

L proselytized on the contrary, in the denseness of rationale, in detached atonality, “…she had yr neon-pink-pixie-haired waitress’s number in her jean pocket, you found it slipped on the post-modern intersecting-circles-threadbare-Room#214-floor in the evening and didn’t think anything, sprawled in midnight & cursory. And now you’ve seen her messages from the mustachioed bartender y’all had drinks with after-hours with him and his girlfriend. No, bye bi…”

L began to retch, stifled it with the back of a something pataphysic. Then vomited a little in the amygdala.

Rorshach whipped about towards L. “…remember-lying-on-plush-magenta-queen-sized-together-studying-for-exams-&distracting-each-other-roaming-hands-laughing-easy-Tame-Impala-played—”
“No!” L cried.
Rorschach: “…1:30-saturday-night-out-she-yelled-@-hooligan-frat-jock-catcalling-turned-homophobic-lettermanjacket-wearing-ass… you-had-her-back-held-her-back-admiring-the-fuck-out-of-her-ready-to-fight-goliath.”]

the Body/Head stirred a little, She looked across the slight-80s-wood-paneled-carpeted-canyon to Her desk in the opposite corner of Her self-cell. Her phone’s blank-dark-aluminosilicate screen was still faced up.

[“cease-fire,” L offered. (Body/Head was just looking, after all; only an idio-zumiez-rose-on-black-ankle had appeared out from undercover. There was, after all, no seriously disconcerting volition.]

minute rectangular-lime appeared in that little-larger device.
the Body/Head could just see it (1) read: “Lizzy?”

[Rorschach bobbed his head around (phosphorescence, polymerization of desires, potential energies nucleating). He fired off, “she-loves-you-really. remember-martinis-under-mid-afternoon-canopies-happy-hour-on-the-sunset-strip-los-angeles-taking-1000x-gingham-polaroid-filtered-couples-photos-posing-with-her-inked-flowery-arms-around-yr-waist-and-kissing-you…”

“Yeah?” said L, waving his hands, “then when she took you to New York like you dreamed, in the Guggenheim atrium and you turned around, and where did she go then? You didn’t see her talking to that girl in the Gucci jacket? Manhattan in the museum of sex she couldn’t stop stressing ‘we should be poly.’ Said it all.”
the Body/Head could feel the seismic action emanate again from the desk. Like-lightning flashed spherically around the cerebellum-cornea-dormitory.

the green box(2): “can we just go to the spiderhouse like we planned?”
the green box(3): “Look, I’m sorry…”

[L absorbed the blunt impact of tectonic shifts in the imagined-scape.]

the aftershocks worked the desk.

[“…halloween-on-christmas,” Rorschach abstracted the lyrics from memory, “I-miss-you-I-miss-you—”
“That’s only — you can’t trust — yr never going to be happy with her,” L sputtered, swaying on the spot.

Those nemeses misdirected disproportionate energies around the central hub — L waning and catatonic, paralyzed all-but-evaporated & Rorschach cacophonic, emerging victorious by sheer force of a state-of-emergency.]

Sighing, Elizabeth threw off her blankets and dropped down from her bunk. She unlocked her phone and read thru Amanda’s messages again, then again, contemplating a minute…

Yeah right
I really am, but nothing was gonna happen Liz. I only have those feelings for you.
Come on, I’ll meet you there and we can have a good time and talk about this shit after OK?


See u there?