chapter three / woe is me / for no-one has review'd.
A/N: seriously, reviews are like happiness in words. Perhaps I'm not the best writer ever, but I need feedback :c
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I'm not usually one to drown in self-pity, but it's Christmas, and I'm not sitting in my apartment, buried under all the blankets I own; I'm standing here, surrounded by stage equipment, and my girlfriend is nowhere to be seen. Come to think of it, where's that engineer I hired? It's quite a bit later than we'd agreed on—seriously, who am I kidding? He's nearly three hours late. I ignore the throbbing headache forming at my temple and stand there, pressed for a solution to my problems.
Someone else enters—probably someone else Maureen's called over, some other poor soul dragged out of their home at Christmastime. It's a man; he's pale, and wearing a brown coat and a blue-and-white scarf. His blond hair is ruffled from the wind, and he's got a messenger bag at his side. He looks oddly similar to a description given by Maureen…
"I swear to God, I'm over
him!" she insists.
"With you, Mo, I can never be sure. What's
he like?" Curiosity got the best of me.
"Well, he's pale,
we were always teasing him about it, and he's got blond hair and
wears glasses and he likes to film, and he has this scarf…"
Oh,
God. "What's his name?"
"Mark…"
Shit.
"You're Mark?" I say, kind of hostile already, because that's the standard for meeting one of Maureen's exes. Someone else who couldn't resist her charm. He looks confused for a second, then just a bit angry, then hurt. Seriously, it makes me a little remorseful just looking at him.
"Joanne?"
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A/N: I'm not really sure how to write the song into it. I forgot if Mark was holding his camera or not as well. I think it was in his bag, maybe?