Tired n' Lonely
1
My name is Veronica Moore and I am 36 years old. I have 2 children. A daughter, Jade, who is 22 and a son, Craig, who is 17. I was very much in love with their father. We didn't plan to have Jade- we were only 14 at the time – but we loved her all the same, and we made the decision to try and work things out, despite our age. We got married when we were 17, when I found out I was expecting out son. We didn't exactly plan to have our son, either, and another child was a big financial burden, no matter how much we adored him. My father adored my husband, and was more than happy for us to marry. My mother died when I was 7. His parents wanted him to do the right thing by me, even if they weren't exactly happy with the way things had worked out.
My father was stabbed two weeks after I was married.
My husband killed himself when I was 19 years old, leaving me to raise our children on my own. To make things worse my best friend, who I had been raised with as a brother, was arrested for murder within six months of my husbands death. He was my dearest and most trusted friend, but he had mad a stupid mistake and he would now spend most of his life in prison for it.
My husband was a musician. He wasn't super famous or anything, but his band was big enough to travel abroad to gigs with relevant frequency. Things were different back then – there were no cell phones, no e-mails... even making a phone call was difficult from abroad with the costs involved and the awful quality of the lines. He used to write to me – letters with crudely drawn scribbles intertwined with the writing. Cartoons of people he had met, places he had been – and because of what he was like, coffins, bats, skulls. I will always treasure those letters, no matter how banal their content is. They are all safely locked away in a box beneath my single bed.
I met Joey when I was 20 years old. I was working in a record store and he was a young musician about to perform his first out of state gig. He came in to the store with a ton of flyers for the gig and dumped them on the counter – he had been struggling with them and nearly dropped them across the shop floor on the way to the counter.
I picked up one of the flyers, and read the back of it as he nervously muttered a greeting.
“Not seen you around here before.” I stated.
“We're from Iowa.”
“Iowa? That's a pretty long way to come to play at this venue, isn't it?”
He looked a little dejected at my comment, but the venue listed on the flyers was only a small local venue played by small local bands. Travelling from Iowa to Boston hardly seemed worth it.
“A friend set it up.” He said, defensively. “You wait, we'll be playing stadiums in no time.”
I laughed, playfully “Oh, I don't doubt it.”
Of course, he teased me no end for this when they played their first stadium gig. I always told him I wasn't kidding when I said that.
“So, can I leave some of these with you?”
“Sure.”
“Can I count on you being there?”
“Well that depends, what sort of music do you play?”
“Metal.” He stated, as though it should have been obvious just from looking at him. I suppose it should have been, but there were so many grunge bands around at that time that it was always a surprise to hear of a new band playing something different.
“Metal's good, I like metal.”
“Yeah, my mom says we sound like we could wake the dead.”
“You can't go tonight, it's my recital remember.” I looked down at my six year old daughter who had emerged from where she had been playing with a deck of cards in the store room and was tugging on the bottom of my Burzum T-shirt.
I blushed, realising how different I was to this guy. He was talking about his mom and I was being pestered by my 6 year old. We were probably the same age.
He smiled, looking down at her.
“What do you play, sweetheart?”
“I don't play anything, I'm a dancer.” She said, snobbishly. It was kind of cute, but it wouldn't be if she was much older.
“Wow, that's cool, I'll bet you're gonna do just great at this recital. Your mom and dad must be really proud of you.”
“My dad doesn't care about me, he's dead.”
“Jade!” I exclaimed, shocked that she had just said that.
Now it was his turn to blush.
“I'm sorry.”
“You didn't know. I've told her not to say stuff like that, I guess she's just too young to know any better.”
My six year old had just killed off any chance I had with this guy. Still, it was probably for the best.
“I should really go.” He said nervously.
“I'll see you later... after her recital... if you don't mind?”
“Yeah... that would be cool.”
Even after 16 years I remember that gig. It was amazing. Every part of it. Except for the fact that I didn't meet him afterwards.
I didn't even know which one he was when they were on stage, they all wore the same jumpsuit and they all wore masks. I didn't even know his name to be able to ask, and after the gig I had to go and pick my kids up from their grandparents house so I couldn't hang around.
Lucky for me he decided to come into the record store the next day.
“How was your daughter's recital?” He leaned casually on the counter, and started flicking through the various flyers which had been left there.
“It was OK thanks.”
“I didn't see you yesterday.”
I snorted. I was probably the only woman there, I don't know how he could have missed me.
“I was there!” I said, holding out my bruised arm as evidence I had been in the mosh pit.
“Oh yeah? Well.... what surprised you most about us?” He asked, to try and determine if I was telling the truth, I guess.
“Well... the fact there were 9 of you, and you were all in masks was a little surprising.”
He smiled. “You were definitely there, then.”
“Wouldn't have missed it for the world.”
“So... what did you think?”
“You were amazing!”
“Which one was I?”
I had thought about it for an hour or so as I was trying to sleep. There were two with long back hair. A drummer and a guitarist. The guitarist was so tall that he must have been the drummer.
“You were the drummer, right?”
“Wow, spot on. You really must have been paying attention.”
“Well, I know what your band sounds like, I know what you play and I know you like metal... I still don't know your name.”
“Joey.” He said, offering his hand.
“Well, I'm Veronica. Though I tend to get called Nicky.” I took his hand, but he did not shake it, he kissed the back of mine.
“It's a pleasure to meet you Nicky. So, could you recommend somewhere to get a decent meal around here?”
“Besides McDonalds?”
He smiled “Well, McDonalds would do, I just don't know where there is one.”
“There's one opposite this store.” I said.
“Hmmm... reckon you could show me, I'm still not sure I can get to it on my own.”
I shook my head and laughed, “That is such a bad pick up line! Come on, I'll take my lunch hour early, just for you.”
I picked up my keys from the store room and shut the store up, sticking a crudely written 'back in an hour' sign behind the metal grate which covered the glass of the door.
“So,” He said, lighting up a cigarette, “you really liked us?”
“Definitely. Bought some of your merch and everything.”
“I wouldn't have though a Burzum fan would be into us.”
“Hey, I don't only listen to Black Metal. But it will always have a place in my heart.” I said, choosing not to explain that my husband had been in a black metal band before he died.
“Mine too. I've been hooked since I first heard it, a few years back.”
“So, what else do you listen to?” I asked, trying to change the subject before I ended up talking about my husband.
“Oh most things. Punk, thrash, rock, glam, grunge... you name it I love it.”
“A man after my own heart.” I said.
“I'm guessing that's why you work in the record store?”
“Well, it was my dad's business before he died. The fact I'm working with music is a bonus though. And I can bring my kids in if I need to.”
“How many do you have?” He sounded surprised.
“Just the two. Jade and Craig.”
“How old are they?”
“Well, Jade is six and Craig is one.” I realised that Jade had mentioned their father, and added, “Their father died 8 months ago.”
“And you're running a store and caring for 2 kids?”
“Well, I can't exactly give them back now times are hard, and we need to eat.”
“You're a pretty strong person.”
“It's not at all through choice, Joey.”
“I know, it's just a bit weird to think... I still live with my mom and you're raising 2 kids alone.”
“Yeah. I pretty much gave up my youth.”
“I bet they're worth it.”
“It's not a life I would have chosen by myself. Not that I don't love my kids it's just.... I would have liked a few more years without so much responsibility.”
“Yeah.” He sounded sad, like he felt sorry for me. I changed the subject, again.
“So, are you heading back to Iowa or are you going to be playing some more gigs first?”
“We're heading back to Iowa... this was just to dip our toe in the water before we try and sort out a full US tour.”
“Well... you should let me know if you come back here. I'd love to see you again.” I cleared my throat, “your band, I mean.... not that I don't want to see you, I just...”
“I know what you meant, it's OK. Give me your number and I'll make sure you're the first to know if we come back.”
“So when are you going home?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Oh... so.... you're not free tonight?”
“I could be. What did you have in mind?”
“Thought it would be cool to get a pizza and listen to some music. My husband's parents look after the kids at the weekend to make sure I get a bit of time to myself so it would just be us... of course you're welcome to bring your band mates.”
“I'm not sure they would all appreciate the kind of stuff we listen to. But, I would love to come over.”
“Great!” I sounded far too enthusiastic for my own good as I scribbled my address down on a McDonald’s napkin and pushed it across the greasy looking table to him. I changed my mind half way across he table and pulled it back to me. “Actually, why don't we just hang out at the store? I own it now so I'm not going to get in trouble and there is so much more music to choose from.”
“OK, what time were you thinking? Need to know how many hours I have to kill.”
I acted spontaneously, something I rarely did now I had 2 kids to raise.
“Well... what about we do it now?”
“Now? What about your shop?”
“Oh fuck it, I deserve the afternoon off.”
“OK... but I get to chose the first album.”
“Deal.”
I scraped the remains of my big mac into the brown paper McDonald's bag and stood up, brushing a stray chip from my lap as I did. I collected a few more napkins from the side as we left and nodded my goodbye to the man behind the counter, who served me nearly every day.
I removed the “back in an hour” sign from the door as I opened it, and flipped the “open” sign to “closed” as I entered the shop.
Joey steeped quickly inside as though we were sneaking into a safe house.
“Are you sure it's OK to close the shop?” He whispered.
“It's fine, don't worry about it.” I said.
He cleared his throat, before speaking at his normal level “As long as you're sure.”
“So, what to do now? Music or films?”
“You sell films here, too?”
“No, but I keep a TV and VHS in the back for when my daughter has to come in with me.”
“Got anything good?”
“Let me think... The Little Mermaid, 101 Dalmatians, The Swan Princess, Plan 9 from Outer Space, The Exorcist or Halloween.”
“Hmmm... Little Mermaid?”
“Really?”
“Hell no. Halloween sounds good to me.”
“Great. Do you want a drink?” I asked, lifting the counter so we could get in to the back.
“What have you got?”
“Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, beer, oj, cola, whiskey.”
“What beer is it?”
“Bud.”
“Whiskey it is.”
I laughed “Not my choice, by the way. Someone left it here.”
“Someone?”
“My dad.”
“I thought your dad was dead?”
“He is... he only died last year and I haven't had he heart to throw it out.”
“That's ….really sad to hear.”
“Hey, no need to feel sorry for me. I'm a tough kid, like you said.”
I flicked the light on in the back room. It was dull. The walls were bare cinder blocks, with a few posters of bands on them. There was an old couch, my grandparents from the 1950s and an upturned crate served as a table. The TV in the corner looked so out of place. It was fairly new, and a good one. I had paid for it with some of the insurance money I had been granted when my father was killed. There was a small, white fridge in the corner buzzing away.
I cleared the playing cards left by Jade on the couch into a neat pile, and left them on the upturned crate.
“Sit down.” I said, not meaning to sound authoritative, but used to it with my daughter so sounding so never the less.
He obliged, as I slid the Halloween VHS out of it's counterfeit cardboard case.
“Oh, feel free to get a drink from the fridge. The whiskey is down by the side of it.”
I don't think he heard me and so I picked up the bottle of whiskey and put it next to the cards on the crate, before turning the light out.
The distinctive theme music began and he leaned forward and picked up the bottle, unscrewing the cap before turning to me and asking, “got any glasses?”
“Hey, Mr. Rockstar, live a little.”
“Mr. Rockstar? I like it.”
“Well then, that's your new name.” I said, and even now it's what I call him when we are not being serious.
“Haha, why thank you.” He took a swig from the bottle and I saw him wince as the strength of the stuff hit him. “this is pretty good.”
“Yeah... Isle of Jura: Superstition. I bought it because I liked the bottle.”
He held the bottle up so he could see it. The silver ankh across the front glinted.
“This is pretty neat. You want some?”
“So kind of you to offer.” I said, taking the bottle from him and necking a mouthful.
“You do this often?”
“What? Drink in the back of my shop with random strangers?”
“No... well, sort of.”
“No. I stay here at weekends. It's nice to get away form the house. Besides, I don't like being there alone since... my husband...”
“He died at your home?” He sounded shocked, and I realised how little he knew about me.
“He hung himself. In our bedroom. Unfortunately since my dad died and left the house to me I can't really sell it. It's been on our family for generations and I can't afford another place.”
“So you sleep here at weekends?”
“Yeah I know, I'm weird.”
“It's cool.... you're weird in a good way. I don't think I would have coped with everything you've been through.”
“You'll have to cope with this kind of shit if you have kids.”
He laughed, taking another swing of whiskey, “never gonna happen.”
I sighed, lighting a cigarette as I stood up to find the ask tray, “I really envy you.”
“Thought you loved your kids.”
“I do. I just don't love this stupid life. Stuck in a routine, y'know?” I leaned against the wall by a poster of a recently deceased Kurt Cobain.
“Yeah, I'm pretty scared of routines to be honest, don't wanna end up stuck in some dead end job with a wife and kids waiting for me every night like...”
“...like me... minus the wife, of course.”
“No! No, I didn't mean that.”
“It's fine.” I took a drag from my cigarette, “I'm 20 and I already regret the choices I made in my life. Don't you ever do anything just because you feel you have to, Mr. Rockstar.”
My father was stabbed two weeks after I was married.
My husband killed himself when I was 19 years old, leaving me to raise our children on my own. To make things worse my best friend, who I had been raised with as a brother, was arrested for murder within six months of my husbands death. He was my dearest and most trusted friend, but he had mad a stupid mistake and he would now spend most of his life in prison for it.
My husband was a musician. He wasn't super famous or anything, but his band was big enough to travel abroad to gigs with relevant frequency. Things were different back then – there were no cell phones, no e-mails... even making a phone call was difficult from abroad with the costs involved and the awful quality of the lines. He used to write to me – letters with crudely drawn scribbles intertwined with the writing. Cartoons of people he had met, places he had been – and because of what he was like, coffins, bats, skulls. I will always treasure those letters, no matter how banal their content is. They are all safely locked away in a box beneath my single bed.
I met Joey when I was 20 years old. I was working in a record store and he was a young musician about to perform his first out of state gig. He came in to the store with a ton of flyers for the gig and dumped them on the counter – he had been struggling with them and nearly dropped them across the shop floor on the way to the counter.
I picked up one of the flyers, and read the back of it as he nervously muttered a greeting.
“Not seen you around here before.” I stated.
“We're from Iowa.”
“Iowa? That's a pretty long way to come to play at this venue, isn't it?”
He looked a little dejected at my comment, but the venue listed on the flyers was only a small local venue played by small local bands. Travelling from Iowa to Boston hardly seemed worth it.
“A friend set it up.” He said, defensively. “You wait, we'll be playing stadiums in no time.”
I laughed, playfully “Oh, I don't doubt it.”
Of course, he teased me no end for this when they played their first stadium gig. I always told him I wasn't kidding when I said that.
“So, can I leave some of these with you?”
“Sure.”
“Can I count on you being there?”
“Well that depends, what sort of music do you play?”
“Metal.” He stated, as though it should have been obvious just from looking at him. I suppose it should have been, but there were so many grunge bands around at that time that it was always a surprise to hear of a new band playing something different.
“Metal's good, I like metal.”
“Yeah, my mom says we sound like we could wake the dead.”
“You can't go tonight, it's my recital remember.” I looked down at my six year old daughter who had emerged from where she had been playing with a deck of cards in the store room and was tugging on the bottom of my Burzum T-shirt.
I blushed, realising how different I was to this guy. He was talking about his mom and I was being pestered by my 6 year old. We were probably the same age.
He smiled, looking down at her.
“What do you play, sweetheart?”
“I don't play anything, I'm a dancer.” She said, snobbishly. It was kind of cute, but it wouldn't be if she was much older.
“Wow, that's cool, I'll bet you're gonna do just great at this recital. Your mom and dad must be really proud of you.”
“My dad doesn't care about me, he's dead.”
“Jade!” I exclaimed, shocked that she had just said that.
Now it was his turn to blush.
“I'm sorry.”
“You didn't know. I've told her not to say stuff like that, I guess she's just too young to know any better.”
My six year old had just killed off any chance I had with this guy. Still, it was probably for the best.
“I should really go.” He said nervously.
“I'll see you later... after her recital... if you don't mind?”
“Yeah... that would be cool.”
Even after 16 years I remember that gig. It was amazing. Every part of it. Except for the fact that I didn't meet him afterwards.
I didn't even know which one he was when they were on stage, they all wore the same jumpsuit and they all wore masks. I didn't even know his name to be able to ask, and after the gig I had to go and pick my kids up from their grandparents house so I couldn't hang around.
Lucky for me he decided to come into the record store the next day.
“How was your daughter's recital?” He leaned casually on the counter, and started flicking through the various flyers which had been left there.
“It was OK thanks.”
“I didn't see you yesterday.”
I snorted. I was probably the only woman there, I don't know how he could have missed me.
“I was there!” I said, holding out my bruised arm as evidence I had been in the mosh pit.
“Oh yeah? Well.... what surprised you most about us?” He asked, to try and determine if I was telling the truth, I guess.
“Well... the fact there were 9 of you, and you were all in masks was a little surprising.”
He smiled. “You were definitely there, then.”
“Wouldn't have missed it for the world.”
“So... what did you think?”
“You were amazing!”
“Which one was I?”
I had thought about it for an hour or so as I was trying to sleep. There were two with long back hair. A drummer and a guitarist. The guitarist was so tall that he must have been the drummer.
“You were the drummer, right?”
“Wow, spot on. You really must have been paying attention.”
“Well, I know what your band sounds like, I know what you play and I know you like metal... I still don't know your name.”
“Joey.” He said, offering his hand.
“Well, I'm Veronica. Though I tend to get called Nicky.” I took his hand, but he did not shake it, he kissed the back of mine.
“It's a pleasure to meet you Nicky. So, could you recommend somewhere to get a decent meal around here?”
“Besides McDonalds?”
He smiled “Well, McDonalds would do, I just don't know where there is one.”
“There's one opposite this store.” I said.
“Hmmm... reckon you could show me, I'm still not sure I can get to it on my own.”
I shook my head and laughed, “That is such a bad pick up line! Come on, I'll take my lunch hour early, just for you.”
I picked up my keys from the store room and shut the store up, sticking a crudely written 'back in an hour' sign behind the metal grate which covered the glass of the door.
“So,” He said, lighting up a cigarette, “you really liked us?”
“Definitely. Bought some of your merch and everything.”
“I wouldn't have though a Burzum fan would be into us.”
“Hey, I don't only listen to Black Metal. But it will always have a place in my heart.” I said, choosing not to explain that my husband had been in a black metal band before he died.
“Mine too. I've been hooked since I first heard it, a few years back.”
“So, what else do you listen to?” I asked, trying to change the subject before I ended up talking about my husband.
“Oh most things. Punk, thrash, rock, glam, grunge... you name it I love it.”
“A man after my own heart.” I said.
“I'm guessing that's why you work in the record store?”
“Well, it was my dad's business before he died. The fact I'm working with music is a bonus though. And I can bring my kids in if I need to.”
“How many do you have?” He sounded surprised.
“Just the two. Jade and Craig.”
“How old are they?”
“Well, Jade is six and Craig is one.” I realised that Jade had mentioned their father, and added, “Their father died 8 months ago.”
“And you're running a store and caring for 2 kids?”
“Well, I can't exactly give them back now times are hard, and we need to eat.”
“You're a pretty strong person.”
“It's not at all through choice, Joey.”
“I know, it's just a bit weird to think... I still live with my mom and you're raising 2 kids alone.”
“Yeah. I pretty much gave up my youth.”
“I bet they're worth it.”
“It's not a life I would have chosen by myself. Not that I don't love my kids it's just.... I would have liked a few more years without so much responsibility.”
“Yeah.” He sounded sad, like he felt sorry for me. I changed the subject, again.
“So, are you heading back to Iowa or are you going to be playing some more gigs first?”
“We're heading back to Iowa... this was just to dip our toe in the water before we try and sort out a full US tour.”
“Well... you should let me know if you come back here. I'd love to see you again.” I cleared my throat, “your band, I mean.... not that I don't want to see you, I just...”
“I know what you meant, it's OK. Give me your number and I'll make sure you're the first to know if we come back.”
“So when are you going home?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Oh... so.... you're not free tonight?”
“I could be. What did you have in mind?”
“Thought it would be cool to get a pizza and listen to some music. My husband's parents look after the kids at the weekend to make sure I get a bit of time to myself so it would just be us... of course you're welcome to bring your band mates.”
“I'm not sure they would all appreciate the kind of stuff we listen to. But, I would love to come over.”
“Great!” I sounded far too enthusiastic for my own good as I scribbled my address down on a McDonald’s napkin and pushed it across the greasy looking table to him. I changed my mind half way across he table and pulled it back to me. “Actually, why don't we just hang out at the store? I own it now so I'm not going to get in trouble and there is so much more music to choose from.”
“OK, what time were you thinking? Need to know how many hours I have to kill.”
I acted spontaneously, something I rarely did now I had 2 kids to raise.
“Well... what about we do it now?”
“Now? What about your shop?”
“Oh fuck it, I deserve the afternoon off.”
“OK... but I get to chose the first album.”
“Deal.”
I scraped the remains of my big mac into the brown paper McDonald's bag and stood up, brushing a stray chip from my lap as I did. I collected a few more napkins from the side as we left and nodded my goodbye to the man behind the counter, who served me nearly every day.
I removed the “back in an hour” sign from the door as I opened it, and flipped the “open” sign to “closed” as I entered the shop.
Joey steeped quickly inside as though we were sneaking into a safe house.
“Are you sure it's OK to close the shop?” He whispered.
“It's fine, don't worry about it.” I said.
He cleared his throat, before speaking at his normal level “As long as you're sure.”
“So, what to do now? Music or films?”
“You sell films here, too?”
“No, but I keep a TV and VHS in the back for when my daughter has to come in with me.”
“Got anything good?”
“Let me think... The Little Mermaid, 101 Dalmatians, The Swan Princess, Plan 9 from Outer Space, The Exorcist or Halloween.”
“Hmmm... Little Mermaid?”
“Really?”
“Hell no. Halloween sounds good to me.”
“Great. Do you want a drink?” I asked, lifting the counter so we could get in to the back.
“What have you got?”
“Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, beer, oj, cola, whiskey.”
“What beer is it?”
“Bud.”
“Whiskey it is.”
I laughed “Not my choice, by the way. Someone left it here.”
“Someone?”
“My dad.”
“I thought your dad was dead?”
“He is... he only died last year and I haven't had he heart to throw it out.”
“That's ….really sad to hear.”
“Hey, no need to feel sorry for me. I'm a tough kid, like you said.”
I flicked the light on in the back room. It was dull. The walls were bare cinder blocks, with a few posters of bands on them. There was an old couch, my grandparents from the 1950s and an upturned crate served as a table. The TV in the corner looked so out of place. It was fairly new, and a good one. I had paid for it with some of the insurance money I had been granted when my father was killed. There was a small, white fridge in the corner buzzing away.
I cleared the playing cards left by Jade on the couch into a neat pile, and left them on the upturned crate.
“Sit down.” I said, not meaning to sound authoritative, but used to it with my daughter so sounding so never the less.
He obliged, as I slid the Halloween VHS out of it's counterfeit cardboard case.
“Oh, feel free to get a drink from the fridge. The whiskey is down by the side of it.”
I don't think he heard me and so I picked up the bottle of whiskey and put it next to the cards on the crate, before turning the light out.
The distinctive theme music began and he leaned forward and picked up the bottle, unscrewing the cap before turning to me and asking, “got any glasses?”
“Hey, Mr. Rockstar, live a little.”
“Mr. Rockstar? I like it.”
“Well then, that's your new name.” I said, and even now it's what I call him when we are not being serious.
“Haha, why thank you.” He took a swig from the bottle and I saw him wince as the strength of the stuff hit him. “this is pretty good.”
“Yeah... Isle of Jura: Superstition. I bought it because I liked the bottle.”
He held the bottle up so he could see it. The silver ankh across the front glinted.
“This is pretty neat. You want some?”
“So kind of you to offer.” I said, taking the bottle from him and necking a mouthful.
“You do this often?”
“What? Drink in the back of my shop with random strangers?”
“No... well, sort of.”
“No. I stay here at weekends. It's nice to get away form the house. Besides, I don't like being there alone since... my husband...”
“He died at your home?” He sounded shocked, and I realised how little he knew about me.
“He hung himself. In our bedroom. Unfortunately since my dad died and left the house to me I can't really sell it. It's been on our family for generations and I can't afford another place.”
“So you sleep here at weekends?”
“Yeah I know, I'm weird.”
“It's cool.... you're weird in a good way. I don't think I would have coped with everything you've been through.”
“You'll have to cope with this kind of shit if you have kids.”
He laughed, taking another swing of whiskey, “never gonna happen.”
I sighed, lighting a cigarette as I stood up to find the ask tray, “I really envy you.”
“Thought you loved your kids.”
“I do. I just don't love this stupid life. Stuck in a routine, y'know?” I leaned against the wall by a poster of a recently deceased Kurt Cobain.
“Yeah, I'm pretty scared of routines to be honest, don't wanna end up stuck in some dead end job with a wife and kids waiting for me every night like...”
“...like me... minus the wife, of course.”
“No! No, I didn't mean that.”
“It's fine.” I took a drag from my cigarette, “I'm 20 and I already regret the choices I made in my life. Don't you ever do anything just because you feel you have to, Mr. Rockstar.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Hope you enjoy. Bella Morte is a little hard to write at the moment, so I started off this.