Words for the day: 2203 (target was 2.5K)
T-shirt: Another bikini day
Best music vibe: “The Mostly Come At Night, Mostly” Yacht Club DJs (aka the Elyora soundtrack)
My first day of cafe writing but it was underwhelmed by an (unrelated) panic attack on the way there. Once I’d finished writing I felt a little adrift. Having crossed the midway point it is all about things slowly going to shit. And it kinda of smarted to be in the middle of the first of Christian and Tabitha’s arguments.
The drive over to Stacey’s provided the headspace for what comes next. I can see Tabitha not necessarily wandering the halls alone in her madness but perhaps sharing it with Lucas (Ham) Hammond who has his own demons to confront. And then there is the back story of Christian, the one he hides very neatly from Tabitha, and how if he told her, there would be no way she’d ever think Christian was doing anything with Becca. And there is the looming big scene with the sculptor. I need to work out what comes between now and then.
There is still so much to write, but it is the dark twisted stuff. You know, the stuff I sink totally into. I will give Tabitha and Christian one more sweet moment, perhaps seen through the prying eyes of Ramsey (as I haven’t quite worked out how to wind his stuff in here yet?) Then its all about breaking it apart.
So today we meet (and then leave) Tabitha alone in the dining room, wrestling with her thoughts.
* * *
In the same chair Ramsey had held court from hours earlier, she sat shivering in her PJs, presiding over the huge table that yawned like a mortician’s slab before her. Slow moving shadows converged to perform an autopsy on her unreliable heart. To dissect and tsk over machinery made imperfect by doubts and failures and the inability to trust. To always and only ever believe the worst.
Go back upstairs. Stop the slow rot you’ve infected Christian with. Or he will morph into the villain you know too well.