Gail walked up the stairs to the lobby, to get away from the noise. The dimmed lights gave the area the appearance of an office space after hours, perhaps one of a lawyer or a mob boss, someone who can afford to have leather furniture.
The noise of festivities died down behind Gail. Silence greeted her like familiar company, not quite comforting, but far enough from the restless panic she had been running from. So it was welcomed.
Everyone was glad to see her tonight, or at least if they weren’t they put up good appearances. It was unnerving. Noone should be that happy, not to greet a stranger. It made her feel that she had no control over her good name, not even as far as keeping it good. If the collective vote swayed against her in a week, she just might have no influence over that decision.
For a moment, Gail considered sulking.
Am I gonna cry?
It was better to do it in solitude, anyway. She looked at the vacant furniture, armchairs and a lone sofa, and imagined them occupied. It was silly. If she wanted company, she should go downstairs. She could probably slide right into a conversation and no one would have noticed that she left the room. There was so much noise and chaos, enough to fill any vacancy that became available. In a way, it wouldn’t have mattered if Gail couldn’t hold a conversation because someone would and Gail would be welcome to sit in her muteness amongst the friendly faces all the same.
I guess I am gonna cry.
Gail leaned against a couch and sucked in a deep breath, then sighed, not holding back on the melodrama of it all and watched a baby roach make its way into a gap between the floor tiles. If she’d stepped on it rather than gawking at it, the building would have one less roach, and who knows, maybe that roach will grow up to be the mother of a whole army of roaches that would eventually infest the building, if it isn’t already infested. Gail wondered if she’d still be here for that to happen.
What’s the lifespan of a roach anyway? If it was anything more than a year, the roach would outlast her.
“Gail.”
Gail turned to find she had company, another familiar face, and felt a defensive smile cross her face almost impulsively.
Griffin sat peering up from his sketchbook at her curiously. He nodded once.
“Why aren’t you downstairs?” Gail asked.
“I can ask you the same.”
Gail saw his sketchbook resting on the cushion beside him.
“Did you draw a pretty picture?”
He only shrugged.
“Do you remember how we met?”
“Pardon?”
Gail shook her head,“I’ve been feeling existential tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know what I look like to other people.”
Griffin nodded at the armchair next to him,“How did we meet Gail?”
Gail obliged. “I remember feeling stupid.” Gail said, “I can’t even remember what I said, but I know I felt stupid saying it. And you just had that knowing smile on your face like it didn’t surprise you that you flustered everything that can breathe.”
Griffin rolled his eyes.
“You had this warm kindness to you, like you were patience personified.” Gail continued, “I don’t think I know how to replicate that.”
He was frowning, thoughtfully, and Gail wished she could look half as sharp as he did even if she had to try.
“There was that song that I was listening to on my way to the café that morning.” Gail said, “I didn’t really have an opinion on it, but then it became your song and I couldn’t stop listening to it for two weeks.”
“Love sick child.” Griffin scoffed.
“You know, I still listen to that song sometimes, when I need to remember how to find the warmth in blue.”
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