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aldersprigFor kc_obrien's Prompt
Facets has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ
Aubergine had settled in. The dreams didn't bother her anymore... at least not as long as she took the little white pill every night and the tiny pink one every morning. And during the day, she no longer had those moments of disorientation. Everything fit. SHE fit.
She still couldn't remember anything before her twentieth birthday, but that no longer seemed stranger to her. She went to work every day, she came home every evening, she climbed on the weekends and was going to run the marathon this year - in short, she filled the years since The Accident with memories, to try to ignore the gaping hole beforehand. And it seemed to be working.
The dreams, when they leaked in around the edges, were of falling from a great height, or of being very, very cold, or of being shoved. She avoided, thus, ledges, walk-in freezers, any building above the fifth floor. Even in the Metropolis, that wasn't impossible. It just involved some creative planning some days.
The Subway was fine. It looked... wrong, if she focused too hard, too bright, too clean, too new. But that was a wrong she could cope with and, besides, it was better than the cable cars by a long shot. So Aubergine took the subway to work and back, and walked to the corner store for most of her groceries. The bananas tasted wrong, still, but it seemed to work out for her.
And then, Friday, after a long week of work, she stepped into the subway car, turned around, and stared into her own face.
kc_obrien's PromptFacets has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ
Aubergine had settled in. The dreams didn't bother her anymore... at least not as long as she took the little white pill every night and the tiny pink one every morning. And during the day, she no longer had those moments of disorientation. Everything fit. SHE fit.
She still couldn't remember anything before her twentieth birthday, but that no longer seemed stranger to her. She went to work every day, she came home every evening, she climbed on the weekends and was going to run the marathon this year - in short, she filled the years since The Accident with memories, to try to ignore the gaping hole beforehand. And it seemed to be working.
The dreams, when they leaked in around the edges, were of falling from a great height, or of being very, very cold, or of being shoved. She avoided, thus, ledges, walk-in freezers, any building above the fifth floor. Even in the Metropolis, that wasn't impossible. It just involved some creative planning some days.
The Subway was fine. It looked... wrong, if she focused too hard, too bright, too clean, too new. But that was a wrong she could cope with and, besides, it was better than the cable cars by a long shot. So Aubergine took the subway to work and back, and walked to the corner store for most of her groceries. The bananas tasted wrong, still, but it seemed to work out for her.
And then, Friday, after a long week of work, she stepped into the subway car, turned around, and stared into her own face.
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Date: 2012-02-05 04:47 am (UTC)I don't
what
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Date: 2012-02-05 04:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 07:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 08:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-06 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-08 03:12 am (UTC)Fantastic!
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Date: 2012-02-08 06:41 pm (UTC)