A/N: There is no time continuity so the little pieces tend to jump around
The Needful Things
"Where's my letter?"
She knows that her mother had to have taken it. That letter was her ticket, the only way fro everyone to really see her.
That letter was from a man in the pictures and he said she could be a star. There is no way that he could have been lying, because he looked so official and why would some man bother lying to a girl like her?
"What letter?" her mother shrugs, not bothering to look up from the wash. That's what her mother does when she thinks something brought up for conversation doesn't matter.
In the back of Crooks' mind he knows that his efforts don't really matter. No matter how good a stable buck he is, no matter how good at horse shoes he is no matter how good he is at anything for that matter he will always be the nigger with a twisted spine.
"They knows not to mix," he whispers to himself as he himself and him are his only company. In some ways he feels embarrassed that his loneliness has taken him this far. His sanity was all he had left.
Curley throws a left. Southpaw. It wasn't his norm, but the wall he is pretending to be the another boxer isn't expecting it. He used to be great, handy even–
"Then I'd throw a right–" he says to…
Curley forgot that no one is in his home with him. Curley forgot that he has no use of his right hand. Curley forgot that his wife isn't there.
He used to be able to throw that right hand punch, and tell his wife all about it but that was before that big guy that killed his wife broke his hand.
Slim has been a stable hand, or rather a jerkline skinner, for as long as he can remember. It's what he wakes up every morning to do.
He isn't eager, but is expectant enough that he forgets that this is probably what he will be doing for the rest of his life. That's how things are and hw they have to be for the life he has chosen to lead. Slim knows it and made his peace.
Peace and silence encroach after George finishes telling Lennie about his plan.
You're dreaming Milton, his conscience says sullenly.
It is pretty simple and all George wants is a place where he can lay down his head that's his. It isn't a lofty or very uncommon dream, but he intends to keep it going for Lennie's sake.
For Lennie's sake? His conscience scoffs, you're really in denial.
The big dope needed a reason to go on; something to look forward to or this journey will have no point.
For you that is...