NewsMan.
ScreenWriter.
What's With The Ocean?
huh?
What's It Have To Do With The Girl?
i
i am pretty sure i see her floating down there.
look towards the horizon,
i think that's her. the spot over... there.
Oh
Oh.
...How'd That Happen?
it was a week ago.
someone broke into my house.
most things were left untouched, except for the doors--
whoever did it unscrewed them and did a very poor job of attaching them back.
..after stealing her body, that is.
well, "stealing" might not be the word.
she's not mine.
she's just... herself.
sort of.
She Was.
I Don't Think Corpses Can Be People Anymore.
please don't say that...
Why?
Why Did You Have Her In The First Place??
i felt like i had no other option than to hide her, after what happened.
i don't think i ever explained it to you, have i?
You Haven't.
I Just Accepted The Corpse In The Closet As A Fact,
Though I Did Think It Was A Metaphor For Some Time.
yeah, yeah...
we were like, how old?
i don't know. it was five years ago.
we were younger, for sure.
her name was ___,
she was a family friend.
though i don't see my family anymore, for reasons unrelated.
we were swimming by the shore that day,
they always put up those red balls with plastic chains delimiting the swimming area
and she always used to say that that was bullshit,
that her dad knew the place like the back of his hands, and nothing bad ever happened to him. by extension, she'd say, nothing bad would ever happen to her!
the thing is, we were very young. we couldn't remember the back of our hands very well yet.
so, she went ahead
with me trailing behind.
it was fun for a while,
but she wanted to get farther...
i told her that was too risky, and we left a bit afterwards.
we talked, later that night.
we fought over what i said. i told her she was way too careless and well, she told me i was, uh... a bit uptight.
She Called You A Pussy.
...she called me a pussy, yes.
so
i told her to swim to China then,
and see if i fucking care. idiot.
Message sent.
i went to the beach the next day.
and the next one,
and so on,
because she didn't answer my calls,
and she wasn't home.
i'd find her by day seven, far down the shore. and i would feel guilty about what i'd see.
and,
perhaps,
i would deny it,
and i would carry her home,
because she's for SURE faking it 'cause she just saw me coming up from the corner,
or maybe she's just unconscious
and that means i can wake her up
or, worst case, i can resuscitate her;
i've seen the guides, i know the beat you push the chest by,
and i did try.
i really did!
placed my hands over her chest and pushed,
pushed and pushed,
push
push
push
and push,
in the middle of my living room,
wet carpet,
open door.
but i tried too hard.
i heard a crack.
i had broken a rib.
that's when it dawned on me that the face i was looking at was too veiny, too pale,
too bloated to be alive.
...i hid her in the closet then.
......Damn.
I
That's A Situation, For Sure.
Did You Think- Or Feel- Like You Killed Her?
it sure as hell felt like it!!
i mean
breaking a rib is one thing. i might've perforated an organ... but that wasn't what killed her.
she was obviously dead by then
and she would've gone beyond the swimming area anyways, wether i said something or not.
--or that's what i tell myself.
but i should've done things differently then, for SURE. and afterwards, too.
i did so so so many things wrong...
That Doesn't Matter Though.
It's Done For.
And It's Been A While.
A Loong While. Five Years...
... I Can Barely See Her, Down There. She's Leaving For Good.
More Importantly, Who The Fuck Broke Into Your House To Throw A Corpse Into The Sea??
i mean
surely, any of the fifty people who knew about its existence
the good thing is that now i have something to talk about with people. thank fuck, something for the awkward silences.
Sure, Weirdo. It'll Worsen Them, For Sure.
But I Get It Now.
get what?
Why You Haven't Been Showing Up To Work.
It Makes Sense,
I Wouldn't Want To Go To Work Either If This Shit Happened To Me.
yeah,
this week has been exhausting.
i felt like i was going through all stages of grief again
if only a bit more accelerated by the adrenaline of an unknown corpse robber.
but like,
i don't actually care about whoever broke into the house all that much.
the fact that she's gone for real now is what keeps me awake.
you've known her for a mere few minutes, sure,
but she'd been there for too long,
in the locked closet that i can no longer use,
on the floor where the rotten fluids and flesh would fall onto
and be swept off of
almost mechanically,
and the walls that death's odor would seep into.
... my friend is long gone.
i will get back to work next week.
can you cover this weekend for me?
just this once.
Sure, Man
But You Owe Me One.
You Will Be Cat-sitting My Cats Forever.
ohhh what a PAINFUL fate for poor old me!
thanks, SW.