☀︎ — rise “There's that, sure, but, you know... how normal people have emotional breakdowns, right?”
— wanted to see what would happen. You know what that's like? Like, I could have stopped it, but I'd never seen a person die before. Not for real.
[ You are at a grocery store. You're getting one thing. You're only getting one thing because you didn't pack a lunch, or you're out of tampons, or your best friend is in the hospital and you need to sneak them some oreos before they die in melodramatic spite for your failure to appease their cookie cravings, or something like that. It's the middle of the day, so you thought this would be fast, but there's only three registers open, and two of them have lines so long they're cutting into the actual shopping aisles.
And the third is... whatever the hell this is. You can't tell how the cashier is reacting, because the girl telling this story about how she watched a man die is sitting on the conveyor belt, as comfortable as can be, with her arms lazily crossed along the check-sign stand, and she's blocking your view of the cashier. She's a weird looking girl, too, with vibrant green hair tied up in a couple of messy buns, and you're pretty sure it's not tank-tops-and-flip-flops weather outside, either. You can't see her face, but there's a strange looking—is that a burn? Or a tattoo? You're not sure—marking of some kind on her right arm, partially obscured by her left. ]
It wasn't a clean fight, either. Guy had his eye shredded out with a bunch of razors, throat slit. Blood everywhere.
☀︎
“There's that, sure, but, you know... how normal people have emotional breakdowns, right?”
— wanted to see what would happen. You know what that's like? Like, I could have stopped it, but I'd never seen a person die before. Not for real.
[ You are at a grocery store. You're getting one thing. You're only getting one thing because you didn't pack a lunch, or you're out of tampons, or your best friend is in the hospital and you need to sneak them some oreos before they die in melodramatic spite for your failure to appease their cookie cravings, or something like that. It's the middle of the day, so you thought this would be fast, but there's only three registers open, and two of them have lines so long they're cutting into the actual shopping aisles.
And the third is... whatever the hell this is. You can't tell how the cashier is reacting, because the girl telling this story about how she watched a man die is sitting on the conveyor belt, as comfortable as can be, with her arms lazily crossed along the check-sign stand, and she's blocking your view of the cashier. She's a weird looking girl, too, with vibrant green hair tied up in a couple of messy buns, and you're pretty sure it's not tank-tops-and-flip-flops weather outside, either. You can't see her face, but there's a strange looking—is that a burn? Or a tattoo? You're not sure—marking of some kind on her right arm, partially obscured by her left. ]
It wasn't a clean fight, either. Guy had his eye shredded out with a bunch of razors, throat slit. Blood everywhere.
[ You just want to buy your thing. ]