I do not own I Think We're alone Now.
It is just absolute perfection and I love it.
Home Becomes You
And so, they travel back home.
His home.
The town.
The library.
The canned food in the grocery store.
The lake.
The cleaning.
They travel.
And they take their time.
She sleeps a lot.
He worries about the damage that may or may not have been done to her nervous system.
Worries that there may or may not be a tracker embedded at the base of her skull.
Worries . . .
". . . hurt?"
"A little."
. . . about a lot of things.
They scavenge canned food on the way from houses filled with the dead.
Del resists the impulse to clean.
They relieve themselves behind bushes, sparingly use the toilet paper he stowed away in his pack.
They stop to rest, for her to rest, any time she asks or he senses she might be wanting to.
They sleep in the car, lay the bucket seats as far back as they'll go.
Uneasy and uncomfortable.
But safe.
As safe as they can be.
Sometimes Grace sleeps while Del drives.
Smooth and easy, he doesn't want to risk hurting or scaring her.
He keeps the roof down, as much as she likes.
So she can feel the wind in her hair, the sun on her face.
So she can feel the life.
He picks flowers for her.
Notices their chaotic profusion of color out in a wild field and thinks she might like them.
Stops the car, brings them to her, feeling strangely boyish and hopefully silly.
She takes them in her hand, stares blankly at them.
And when she speaks, her voice is flat.
So quiet he can barely hear it.
"They'll die now."
He shrugs.
"You can throw them out if you like."
She keeps them.
I love love love this movie.
Peter Dinklage, come on, man.
He's unbelievable.
Anyway, thanks for reading!