October 27, 2009
Day 2 of 5
Sometimes, you wish you were a robot, of sorts.
And in a way, you know you are.
You're in a daze, everything's a blur.
You don't need friends.
You don't need anybody.
And yet, all the same, you feel.
Can robots feel?
You don't think so.
~-~-~
In a rush, a soccer ball tucked under his arm, Cam Fisher pants through the hallways, black hair sweaty and untidy, as opposed to his usual neat hairdo.
He crashes into you.
Breathing in a startled gulp of air, he quickly murmurs non-coherent apologizes, lending you a hand.
You take it.
After a moment of silence, he begins again.
"I really am sorry…" he repeats himself, glancing at you, eyes traveling upward.
To your eyes.
"Massie?" he asks, obviously stunned at your appearance.
You nod, then add, "the one and only," with a small grin, which feels toothy and stretched out on your face.
"Well… it was nice… seeing you, Mass." He says, obviously distracted.
He turns on his heels and walks away.
You wonder why your stomach feels so hollow.
Then, you spot his soccer ball, which he left in his abrupt departure.
You pick it up, studying it, then take a whiff.
It smells like Drakkar Noir.
Crisp. Strong.
Magnetic.
It smells like Cam Fisher.
With a small grin, you think to yourself that you just might keep it.
A theft for a theft.
Because you know that Cam Fisher has recaptured your heart.
You just wonder how.
~-~-~
It's
the final countdown
The final countdown…
~-~-~