day thirty-eight

She doesn’t move around as often, I find. I think she might be in a bit of a sulk. I learned, though, that because she isn’t moving for me doesn’t mean she isn’t moving at all.

There was another person. A girl.

I looked to the window, and there she was, dirty and frantic and pale. Stringy hair, shivering badly. Wasn’t dressed for the chill, tiny little top and shorts. And flip-flops. This girl was so impractical, I might have laughed.

She called out to me when she saw me looking. It was like she hadn’t seen another human being in years. She waved in a panic, calling out – asking things about whether or not I was real, if I knew where we were, would I help her, please.

I waited at the doorway, and when she came in, I brought one of the iron chairs down on her head and bludgeoned her to death.

It didn’t look like she appreciated the peace of this place properly. I think I was doing her a favor.

Besides, I think I rather like being on my own.

The City’s been more active tonight. Squirming around like she’s excited about something. I tossed the body out the door, and when I looked an hour ago, the corpse was gone.