So many bits and pieces of things written for this! Oh, how to put it all together
Even now, I play and replay that day over and over in my mind. The most common thing - a subway ride - had become something that had to be remembered. I'd ride it just to feel like she was there. And there came the next point - confliction. Was it wrong of me to look at Molly differently after that day? It was like I could physically see myself stepping across some invisible boundary where my fascination for her as an artist became interest in her as a person. She said so many wonderful things and thought in such an abstract way. I feel like such a sentimental fool trying to explain it all to you but to me, it really felt that glorious.
Looking back, I realize that sometimes you get so wrapped up in romanticized notions that you forget about decorum and antagonists and Quiltys. You forget that joy is only accompanied by sorrow and that for all the good you find, there is something to say otherwise. From that point on, I was wearing blinders. I could only see Molly. The world could have fallen down around me but as long as I knew that I could go into the studio and do a hard days work at the boards with her behind the glass, I was fine. Sleep deprivation seems like such a menial thing now that I know how the story panned out. I'm jumping ahead of myself, though, readers. I can't give you the end without you knowing all that happened prior. I feel I must warn you, though; from here on out, the story only gets more erratic.
When I went home that evening, I was prepared to stay up all night, drink coffee, and flip through all 300 channels of infomercials; anything to keep me from going to sleep and confronting something else. I was almost certain that as soon as my head hit the pillow, I'd find myself submersed in a land I never wanted to go back to. I wouldn't do it. I'd gladly trade one torture for another. As time clicked on, the fatigue was becoming too much for me. I fought it through yawns and nods off but I couldn't take it. Trudging to my bed, I was still trying to convince myself that sleep wasn't really necessary.
The time couldn't have been before seven and as I walked from my office, I finally noticed that I was completely alone in the studio. Few lights burned and the ones that did gave the space the eeriest, most mystical glow. I stood transfixed by those amber orbs before making a complete circle where I was. I was half expecting to see someone - anyone - step out of the shadows but the place was dead. In the midst of my bewilderment, I saw Molly came from the direction of hospitality. Her unruly mane of spun brass seemed to have become even crazier, glittering as I'd never seen it. Again, I found myself awestruck but there were questions at hand and I couldn't allow myself to ponder over lights or hair or anything else.
"Molly, what's going on?"
She shook her head while semi-smiling, backing up slowly, each step getting faster and faster.
"Catch me, Tommy." She turned and started running down the farthest hall of the building. She looked over shoulder mid-sprint. "I want you to. Catch me!"
I felt childish for such a game but was compelled to give in to her demands, even if only to find out what the hell was going on. I began to jog and she ran faster. The more I ran, the farther ahead she seemed to get. I was growing frustrated with all of this but I refused to stop; this was now a mission. I kept up my pace and finally got close enough to make a grab at her. I missed and she laughed.
"You can do better than that! What do you really want?" Her words caused me to slow momentarily as I tried to understand what she meant. What did I really want? What kind of a question was that?
I shot my hand out toward her again, this time catching a hold of her wrist. As soon as I felt I had a grip, I slowed down, pulling her closer to me. She crashed into my chest from the left over momentum and I had to hold onto her tightly to keep us from hitting the floor. Trying my best to steady us, I was brought back to reality when her giggling filled my ears. I stared at her puzzled.
"You win."
"I win? What are you talking about?"
She stood silently, staring up at me as I tried to figure all of this out. Chasing, questions, winning; none of this could possibly make sense. In between me analyzing what had just gone down and putting it all together, she slipped out of my hold.
"Just think about it, Tommy. What do you really want?"