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lockwoodlitherland · 1 year

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The intensity of the snow flurries had ebbed since Lloyd had sped past the city limits of Toronto. Every road taken so far had been quiet. After all, only the brave or desperate were willing to drive into what could become a storm at a moment’s notice. As Lloyd’s eyes fixed on the empty Ontario Highway 109 toward Teviotdale before him, he’d have openly admitted he was the latter.

A country song played quietly from the car’s speaker. Usually, Lloyd would sing along with its rich tones and drum his thumbs on the worn steering wheel, but his lips were still. He wasn’t even sure he could recall the title. All he was certain of was that his chest ached and his thoughts were not slowing down. His heart had started to pound.

Would Jamie still be there? Would she wait for him? His eyes shot to the phone mounted to the dashboard. Silently, he scrutinised the little arrow directing him toward the location she’d given him. The sound of a door slamming filled his mind, followed by his voice shouting Jamie’s name. His heart clenched, and his knuckles grew a more vivid white around the steering wheel. If he lost focus, it would only take one patch of compacted snow to send him hurtling off the road.

But how could he stop the images of their turbulent life from flicking through his mind like a zoetrope as he headed toward a moment he'd been fearing for months — whether he'd wanted to admit it or not?

Because you feel guilty, his turbulent mind goaded. You've always felt guilty. Lloyd's knuckles burst against his stretched skin. The world was cruel to her, and you were crueller. Your own flesh and blood. His eyes slipped to the rearview mirror. For a moment, he almost expected to see another face staring back at him, speaking the taunting truths ringing loud and clear in his troubled brain.

Except it was only his face that stared back, a patchwork of healing and fresh scratches. Patches of hair growing back thicker and faster than others. Tired, sunken eyes that always seemed to be looking for something. Searching. Wanting. Hunting.

A wave of nausea swept through him and lodged in his throat. How would Jamie react to him looking like this? What questions would she ask? What answers would he have to give?

For a moment, something compelled him to just turn around. It would be easier that way. Jamie had got herself out here — surely she could get herself back to wherever she’d been staying.

Then all at once, it hit Lloyd that he didn’t know where she’d been staying. He didn’t know who she’d been with. How had she been getting by? A hundred questions burst into his addled brain at once. A hundred questions he’d been forced to consider before when Jamie had fallen off his radar a few years ago.

Then she had reappeared, and sometimes she’d smiled. She’d wandered back into his life and the questions had fallen by the wayside. Back into his life with new people in hers. People that quickly become intertwined with his own day to day. Captivating green eyes and plum lip gloss. Soft mornings and endless nights. More questions that didn’t seem to need answers.

A white-knuckled hand scraped across his scalp, tugging short hair between his fingers. The wind whipped snowflakes across the front window. All it would take would be one patch of ice, and he’d never have any questions again. The scratching would stop.

He slapped his hand back onto the steering wheel and stared directly ahead, peering through the growing torrent of snow. If he carried on then he could answer the only question that truly mattered at that moment: was Jamie okay?

— ** —

Time slipped by in a cascade of snowfall and concern. Between the roundabout in Teviotdale and the parking lot at Lurgan Beach, Lloyd had considered turning the car around no less than three more times. Each time, he’d chastised himself for letting his own sickening guilt influence his thoughts.

Even if coming face to face with Jamie and the emotional chasm between them was frightening, the thought of leaving her out here alone was worse. The thought of leaving her all over again when she needed support.

For once in her fucking life she deserves someone she can rely on.

The wind was blowing wildly as Lloyd opened the car door and stepped out into the frigid air. Cursing to himself, he grabbed his coat and hat from the passenger seat and wrenched them both on. He also grabbed the extra coat that Harley had lent him and tucked it under his arm.

Four steps away from the car, he doubled back to retrieve his phone from the dashboard holder. Jamie’s location was so close.

Sand and pebbles crunched under his boots as he strode toward the beach. The chill bit at his cheeks and nose. As he scaled the sandy bank, the landscape opened up before him. The rocking icebergs and the vast black expanse of Lake Huron. Patches of pale sand between the fresh littering of snow.

“Jamie.” Lloyd bellowed. The wind threw his voice back at him.

Always calling after her, it seemed to taunt.

The cuts on his face burnt.

“Jamie!” He roared, throwing his chest forward as he lurched toward the shore.

Ice floes heaved on the surface of the immense lake. Nothing but sheets of ice atop black water beneath an immaculate white sky as far as the eye could see. The line between the lake and sky was blurred. Lloyd stumbled closer.

The water had always exhilarated him. He’d spent his childhood racing along the sandy shores near their home and listening to the squeal of western gulls and terns. So many nights in the late summer of the previous year had been spent with his arms around Leah’s shoulders as they watched the distinctive silhouettes of surfers beneath a purple sky.

Yet, as he stared into the lake ahead, he felt something shift inside him. The darkness terrified him. How would it feel to be trapped beneath that ice unable to surface?

His head ached. So many questions with so few answers.

So many things that he couldn’t recall. So many moments that seemed out of place.

So many things he wished he could take back.

He could feel his mind spiralling like the snowflakes around him. His thoughts slipped like the sand beneath his feet.

If he submerged himself beneath the water, would it all be over? Would it change anything?

Would he be resigned to a peaceful rest where he could listen to the waves for eternity?

“Lloyd.”

The voice wrenched him back, and he turned instantly.

Jamie stood further up the beach with her hands deep in the pockets of her cardigan. Loose strands of hair whipped around her face.

She was where she had told him she’d be.

She looked okay.

For a long moment, Lloyd just stared at her. She looked older. There was a stiffness to her spine that he didn’t recognise. Yet, she was Jamie. Undoubtedly Jamie.

From the sharp eyes to the skin-and-bone frame, it was undoubtedly Jamie.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Jamie admitted as Lloyd moved toward her. The wind swallowed up most of the volume of her voice, but Lloyd still heard every word with harsh clarity.

Why would she think you’d actually come?

“Jamie-”

“I don’t want some big confession, Lloyd. Some guilty apology. Please.”

“Let’s go to the car. You must be freezing.”

When Jamie didn’t move, Lloyd stepped closer until he stood directly before her. Close enough to reach out and wrap a large hand around her trembling shoulder.

“You deserve so much more than a rushed apology, Jamie. Let me take you somewhere warm. Please.”

Lloyd held out the extra coat.

“You don’t know what I deserve.” She sighed, reaching out to take the coat from his hands.

“Maybe not exactly, but I know it’s not to freeze to death on the shores of Lake Huron.”

For a moment, Lloyd saw Jamie’s lips twitch upward.

Ever since she was small, she’d never had the most natural smile. Sometimes it looked like she was trying to push through physical pain. Other times it looked merely performative — smiling for the sake of social convention. A smile that never quite reached her brilliant but turbulent eyes. Eyes as deep and dark as the waters at his back.

But he could remember the moments of laughter. The tiny little girl missing both of her front teeth that wouldn’t stop giggling as Derek marched around with a fake moustache on. Twelve-year-old Jamie so unsure about getting out of the car and going through the gates of her new school until Lloyd made a ridiculous statement about two large boys hunched over a snapped skateboard.

“I didn’t think-” Lloyd started, scanning the details of her face more intently. He’d seen so many versions of her, but never one that seemed so distant. What could he say to her now? It didn’t feel like he had much these days, and without Jamie, he had a lot less. “Listen-”

Before he could speak another word, Jamie collapsed against him. Instinctively, Lloyd held her in his arms. One hand cradled her head against his chest while his other wrapped around her back.

She was cold to the touch even beneath the extra coat. Even now, even after Lloyd had gotten the impression she was getting better, she still felt fragile. She had always felt so fragile, but sometimes her eyes looked so fierce.

Sometimes what he saw in her eyes scared him. An unpredictability that had never faded since she’d come into his life. A loathing at the world, at him, and at herself.

Ducking his head slightly, he pressed his cheek against her hair and squeezed a little harder.

Jamie breathed out steadily, looping her own arms around his waist. Her mind was racing to keep up with the thoughts that kept appearing and sinking like snowflakes on the lake’s surface.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she withdrew her arms back to her side and took a step back. Now she could look at him. Really look at him.

Lloyd watched her curiously as she lifted her hand and wrapped blue-tinged fingers around his hat. His fingers jerked at his side, and Jamie expected him to grab her hand and push it away. Except he didn’t.

“I’m assuming it wasn’t the barber that fucked up this badly?” She said quietly, brushing her cool fingers against the uneven patches of hair. “I can see why you wear the hat.”

Lloyd scowled and lifted his hand to his forehead. She could picture him dragging his fingers across his skin, scoring tracks and oozing indents into the flesh.

“And I thought they did a number on me.” Jamie handed the hat back to him and shot him a smile. Lloyd received it as a grimace.

For a moment, laughter bubbled up inside her chest. She wanted to tilt her head back and laugh into the wind. Laugh until she was back under that bandstand covered in tattered blankets, fighting off yet another frigid Canadian winter.

Maybe if she’d been a little stronger, she could have pressed a bit harder on Lite’s windpipe. Maybe if she’d been a little less desperate, she wouldn’t have gotten into the car with her.

Maybe if she’d been dead long before that, Lloyd wouldn’t look how he did now: a shell of her brother.

Maybe if she’d stopped Annika from being the one to accompany her to the city that day.

And what if she’d answered her voicemail? I hope that you’re happy Jamie. I hope you got the fuck out of there.

She’d never be truly out of there. As she looked at the man before her with sunken eyes and scars poking out from his hairline, she knew she was going to throw herself right back in.

“We should go. I’ll take you back to the city. You can stay with Harley. And me. I’ve been staying there too.” Lloyd said. He paused for a long moment. “To help her while Cassie’s away.”

Jamie suddenly felt like the freezing cold water of the lake was slipping into her lungs. How little he knew. How much he had lost.

She wondered if he’d smiled the same since he’d forgotten how in love with her he had once been. How when Annika smiled at him, Lloyd forgot everything else in the world.

“Of course.” Jamie gestured for him to lead the way, and for a few moments, she watched him. He moved differently. He seemed smaller. Less sure of himself. And the troubled look in his eyes had shaken her.

Could she fix this? Was there anything left to fix?

You were just a fucking sad, lost, hurt kid and all I did was hate you for it.

She looked toward the shoreline. Her eyes fixed on the spot where the delusional illusion she’d seen of Annika only a few hours ago had seemed so real.

At the thought of the other, something bubbled in her stomach. Hatred perhaps? Guilt? Concern? She couldn’t help but feel that Annika really didn’t want to meet up with her for coffee. Would she be walking into a trap?

She pressed her hand over the shape of her phone in her pocket. Every move she made was probably getting her closer to some kind of trap anyway, but if she could find Annika…

“Come on, Jamie.” Lloyd called from the top of the bank.

She was going to find Annika. Maybe for Lloyd’s sake. Maybe for her own.

#jamie #anni #lloyd

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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SARAH PIDGEON as LEAH RILKE The Wilds, 1x01 Day One

#jamie

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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The winter weather hadn’t relented its clasp on Toronto, and white flurries of snow tumbled past the kitchen window and settled on the frigid ground below. A northern cardinal perched high in the boughs of the stunted white pine at the bottom of the home’s pathway. As the flakes continued to fall, the young bird’s feathers would grow a vivid, startling colour against the backdrop. A scarlet splatter on the fresh snow.

Lloyd breathed in deeply as his hands encircled the warm mug full of freshly-brewed black coffee. The kitchen was cool but it was significantly more welcoming than the world beyond, even with the cool tiles beneath his bare feet. As he took his first sip of the sharp liquid, he felt the heat slip down his throat. Yet, despite the comfortable warmth, it didn’t dislodge the chill that had wound itself around his spine.

Relentlessly the snowflakes fell, packing tighter and tighter atop one another. Inside Lloyd’s mind, he scrambled to claw at the thoughts that had riddled him the night before. The ocean crashed ceaselessly against his skull before plunging him into the depths. Dark. Cold. Alone. A bang from far away. His body being dragged endlessly down with a mouth open wide and screaming. Until something smothered it and dragged him backward into the black.

“I didn’t hear you get up.” Harley’s gentle voice broke through the crashing waves, and Lloyd lifted his head slowly to offer a polite smile. “Or feel you get up for that matter. I must have been tired. Cassie could never get out of bed without me waking up too.”

There was a terseness to her tone that made Lloyd instinctively grimace. Harley had always been an open book, but now it seemed like she’d turned her feelings into secrets and opted to keep them tightly to her chest. Sometimes, she felt like a copy of the woman he’d first met — with all the features and traits he knew and loved but different somehow.

In silence, Harley made a coffee of her own from the still scalding water sitting in the kettle, and Lloyd’s eyes slipped back to the world beyond the window. Sometimes he felt like a ghost. Sometimes he wondered whether he was stuck in limbo between living and the alternative. Sometimes the nights felt more real than the days.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said about coming back.” Harley’s voice almost made Lloyd jump, but the light hand on his back was a quick soother.

“I told you I don’t know why.”

“I know.” Last night was not the first time she’d pried into his justifications, and it wouldn’t be the last. “I know, Lloyd.”

Her nails pressed lightly into his shoulder blade. He lifted his head to look at her. The bags beneath her eyes were darker than he’d seen them in weeks. Her hair was flat against her neck. He missed the brightness of her smile. Like a flame in the darkness. A lighthouse in the ocean.

“I think you should call Jamie, Lloyd. You’ve been saying you will, but you haven’t.” Her voice was unusually hard. Imploring with an edge of demanding.

“I tried.”

“No, you didn’t. Not really.” Lifting a small hand, Harley wiped the underside of her nose and moved away to collect her steaming mug of coffee. “You can’t give me a reason why you came back, but did you even give her a reason why you left? Fuck, not even a reason. Did you even tell her at all?”

———— *** ————

The cold water slapped noisily against the ice floes drifting on the surface of the lake. The sandy beaches of Lake Huron were usually littered with tourists and locals alike in the summer months, but in the depths of winter, visitation was sparse apart from a committed few. The small figure atop a gnarled fallen log on the shoreline was neither a tourist, local nor committed.

Jamie breathed in a lungful of cold air and released it in a pool of frozen fog. Her eyes, surprisingly bright, were fixed on a point far across the surface of the lake. The sky was a thick white but a soft red cut across it in veins. Another morning spent lost. Another morning spent alone.

Like the ice before her, Jamie’s mind was cast adrift. Splitting. Reforming. Tilting. She was equally atop an ice sheet scrambling for purchase but deep below causing the rise and fall of the water. Tipping herself deeper into the depths of her conscious.

Through a crack in the ice, a face appeared. Warm eyes. A steady smile. Frustrated words. Her own fault. A heavy blanket encasing her weary frame. The rich smell of Algonquin Park felt a million miles away. The thick safety of the trees and the sound of birds.

A crack split the quiet air. An ice sheet splintering apart, and Jamie recalled shaking hands clutching at pieces of glass. Squeezing so hard that it scored her skin. Flesh would heal but what about the marks left behind?

Without thinking, she wrenched a padded glove from her hand and stared at the skin. Her eyes darted across the creases. The cold bit at her fingers. Another crack split the silence as the ice fractured. Without thinking, Jamie threw her torso forward and screamed. The lake threw it back at her.

Stumbling to her feet, she snatched a piece of driftwood up from the sand.

“Stop it!” She shouted, hauling herself closer to the water’s edge. “Fucking stop it.”

“Stop what?” A voice answered back. Jamie turned sharply, lifting the branch high above her head. “It’s only you. It’s always only you.”

The fog engulfed her from far across the lake. A woman emerged from within it. Strikingly beautiful with vivid green eyes. She moved forward with confident steps until Jamie could have reached out and touched her. To pull her closer or to shove her away.

“I can’t do this,” Jamie whispered. The woman’s plump lips curved into a smile.

“Says who?”

The fog swirled and Jamie turned with it. The blade of a knife held high to strike. Reproachful eyes peering at her through the haze. Why would I take her in? Some whore’s child.

A warm car rocking her to the first relaxing sleep she’d had in months carrying her away from the cold. A timid creature wrenching itself wildly awake before hands dragged it back.

“Jamie?” Lloyd’s voice echoed around her. “Jamie. Please stop.”

Lloyd’s hand grabbed her arm, and Jamie tried to pull herself away.

“What can I do? How can I help?”

“You can’t!”

“I can’t lose you too.”

“You don’t even care.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jamie.”

The cold had hit her instantly as she’d slammed the door behind her, and she’d been running before Lloyd had even wrenched it open in her wake. His desperate footsteps reduced to nothing as she’d run.

Her eyes clenched shut and her chest heaved. Her knees hit the frost-spattered sand and soaked instantly into her trousers. From through the mist, a melodious tone rang. Her chin dropped to her chest, and ice blue eyes fixated on nothingness.

The ringing grew louder and, as if dragged from a stupor, she pawed at the pocket of her thick coat. Frozen fingers grasped her phone and wrenched it out. She lifted it to her ear.

“Jamie?”

“Lloyd.”

“Are you ok?”

“I don’t know.”

She pressed the heel of her hand hard to her forehead. She could hear the worry in his voice.

“You left me.” She whimpered. Suddenly, she was six years old again and chasing after the boys on their bikes until she tripped and fell. The skid of wheels had been instant as they both turned and rushed back to her.

“I know. I know I did.” His voice sounded as if it got stuck in his throat. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please, Jamie.”

“Lurgan Beach.”

“I’ll come and get you.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” And all at once, it hit her like an iceberg crashing into water. Heaving sobs split from her throat.

“Can you go somewhere warm? I’ll leave now.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Jamie, can you listen to me, please?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked back across the lake. She was on an ice floe scrambling for something to steady her. Her fingers found a handhold.

Ducking down onto the sand, she recollected her glove and pushed it on.

“I’ll send you my location.”

A heavy breath rushed down the line. A woman’s voice spoke in hushed tones in the background followed by the sound of keys.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“I hope so.”

#harley #lloyd #jamie #annika

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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Mistress America, Noah Baumbach (2015)

#lannika #lloyd x annika

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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#lannika #lloyd x anni

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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Despite the freezing cold temperatures clawing at the windows of the townhouse, Lloyd’s body was scalding beneath the dishevelled and half-discarded comforter. Beneath tightly closed lids, eyes darted erratically, and beneath a scratched and untidy hairline, eyebrows were furrowed so deeply that the tightness of the muscle movement contorted the man’s entire face. While most of the city slept peacefully, Lloyd was wrenched into another night of dreams that passed into existence with total clarity and faded into nothingness with the familiarity of memories and the chilling dread of a night terror. Sometimes all there was was noise. Sometimes it was like the entire force of an angry ocean was crashing against his skull. Sometimes it was just a singular noise that stuck with him for a few conscious moments. A loud pop. A crack. But by the time that Lloyd woke sharply some nights, it was nothing but a car backfiring somewhere on a distant street. He was sure of it.

Sometimes he felt like he couldn’t move at all. It was as if every digit and limb was constrained and held back from motion. Yet, there was nothing really to move for... as there was never any visual clarity to these non-sensical images that passed into smoke like dreams and imprinted like a nightmare. Sometimes, as he swallowed thickly in his sleep to dislodge the clogging discomfort in his throat, it was as if there was something forcing his mouth shut beneath the underside of his chin. Something stuck like tar in his lungs. Thick and smoky. Burning.

But when morning came, when the sun rose and his mind clicked on for the waking hours ahead, there was nothing but an itch. An itch that would usually pass with a scratch but often required a raking motion of torn fingernails. By night, something clawed to escape the depths of his brain. By day, Lloyd scraped and clawed to get in.

The growing wind beyond the ‘safety’ of the home was picking up, rattling roadside bins and dislodging snow deposits from that day’s flurry. December had claimed its hold on Toronto and the entire city was bracing for the frigid winter ahead. Even the proud silver fir that glistened with red and gold in the centre of Trinity Square had looked slightly phased when Lloyd had wandered past it two days before. While hot drinks had been enough to temporarily cure the hearts of those with Canadian climate within their very composition, the Californian had tightened his coat around his neck and pulled his hat down further over his scratched face.

"It's what they'll do to me, right?" "It wont hurt. It'll be easy. Better. Don't... scratch the wall.”

The wall had been placed and sculpted with skilled intent but something raw, almost unhinged, had festered inside of the man for so long. No longer was it simply a small irritation that took him by surprise on an unforgettable day; now it was an incessant ache that never ceased. The waves that crashed against his skull had once been little more than a swell but now they towered and battered and dragged him under until there was nothing but a pressing emptiness.

As the wind raged a little harder, Lloyd’s chest convulsed. There was warmth. A mist. In the back of his throat, a sob was wrenched forth. For once, an image appeared in the haze. The noise was chaos yet eerily still. The sob turned into a choking splutter. A warmth spread in his chest. The sweat on his skin pinned the fabric to his torso.

His eyes flew open. Wild cobalt. Blonde hair came into view. Smooth and pale skin drawn slightly too taut over a sweet face. Where once there had only been laughter lines, crevices were etched far too quickly for all the wrong reasons.

“You’re okay. You’re here...” The voice was light and delicate. Familiar. A voice heavy with sleep but brittle with concern. A tone that twitched upward at the end with the appearance of an uncertain smile. “It was just a dream.”

And for all Harley and Lloyd knew, that’s all it was. Neither could tell the other that their skin and clothes had been tainted by sinew and blood and stinking sweat. No one close to them had the ability to remember (except one) the look Lloyd had given as he looked into the eyes of the one woman he loved without question and had more queries than answers.

Lloyd’s chest heaved as his vision settled and Harley’s hand rubbed his torso soothingly. It wasn’t every night that he found himself in the spare room of Harley’s home but frequently he’d either been too exhausted, distant or intoxicated to want to return home. Especially when the world outside was so bitter and biting.

“I woke you up,” Lloyd whispered. Harley breathed out slowly.

“Sort of.” “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t apologise for things you can’t control,” The blonde whispered. “Unless you were intentionally making all that noise.”

For a moment, they were both silent. Breathing slowed. The wind rapped against the window but the rest of Downtown was quiet. Hushed. Don’t scratch the wall.

Harley’s hand fell away from his chest and she lifted herself to her feet. She moved with more awareness than she ever had. The unbridled energy that has once poured forth from every smile and action had been reigned in. In the absence of a strong counsel from a leading presence, Harley had become her own guide.

Lloyd could still remember the first time he’d laid eyes on her. The smile had been so genuine and bright that the room had seemed pale. When Harley McCallum smiled or danced or laughed... the world had to find a way to keep up. But even a sun uses up all that makes it and loses the intensity of what it once was.

“Do you want company?” Harley asked quietly, looking at the man’s furrowed face. There was something about him that Harley didn’t recognise. She had never known this version of Lloyd and while she cared so much for him... there was something that she wanted to lock outside with the roaring wind. So it couldn’t touch him... or anyone else.

“You should sleep.”

“Maybe.”

But without another word, she drew back the covers and slipped beneath them. She could feel the heat from his body. The thin layers of sweat on his skin. He shuffled backwards and let her move herself into his space. Into the embrace of his long arms.

“You know you never told me why you came back to Toronto,”

“For the warm climate and beaches.”

“Lloyd.”

Eventually he’d have to stop running. Torn between figments of moments full of connections. Was it escape he longed for? Could he even escape? Was there anything to escape from?

“I don’t know, Harley.” He felt her shift against him, her hair tickling his forearms.

The sound of the wind faded and the city braced itself for another onslaught of snow, and Lloyd was unable to recollect the next morning who descended into restive sleep first.

#lloyd #harley #lloyd x annika

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

Photo

Nicola Peltz as Marley The Obituary of Tunde Johnson (2021) dir. Ali LeRoi

#young anni

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

#Annika

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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MARITZA

“It’s like…” she looked up at the Silver Fir, standing proud and heavily adorned in reds and golds in the centre of Trinity Square. The canopy of fairy lights cascading down around them glimmered bright and glassy against the green of Annika’s tearful eyes as the words caught tight in her chest with the rest of her breath.

“It’s like waking up from a dream, you know? Everything is warm, like the sun on your skin. Everything is so reassuringly normal and mundane. Some things are shit, but it’s fine, it’s easy enough, the stakes aren’t that high. Like comfort watching your favourite show. But that’s, that’s just your life, and you can’t believe that it’s your life.”

Anni flexed her gloved fingers around the steaming hot cup in her hands. Wisps of hot whiskey-infused steam mingled with the breath that danced from her glossy lips as she puzzled her feelings out into words.

“But then you wake up and it’s sudden and cold and shocking. And you realise that the dream isn’t real, it’s not your life, you’re pretending. That horrible niggling feeling, it explodes, like when you first turn on the shower and the water’s freezing cold. It’s uhm… it’s overwhelming.”

She took a deep breath, sucking the whiskey wisps between her lips suddenly. Maritza knew that the breath held back a sob like a barricade. She wanted to take the drink away from Annika. The girl was nearly two years sober from opioids now, but the drink was still a coping mechanism Mari hadn’t been able to get her to shake. She reached forward across the bench and put her hand over Annika’s. It was clasped so tightly around the paper cup Mari wasn’t sure how it hadn’t crumpled.

“I think it’s time for the grief counselling Anna, it’s been over two years since he-“

Anni pulled back from Maritza at this suggestion. It was disguised by her taking a sip from the cup, but Mari knew Annika by now; as her sponsor it had been Maritza’s job to learn, read and risk assess all of the woman’s queues.

“I can deal with it on my own Mari.”

Maritza pulled her hand back from across the table with a sigh, balling her fingers into a fist, both against the bitter cold and out of a sense of frustration.

“Which is why you dragged me away from my kids’ ‘End-of-Semester-Christmas-Dinner-Gala-Bonanza’ on a Wednesday evening for an emergency meeting in the Winter Village?”

Annika glared at her. “Christmas dinner” she muttered into her cup, lip gloss leaving a plum stain against the white rim “it’s the first of December.”

Despite this reaction Maritza knew that being blunt and honest was the best method of getting through to Annika. Their openness and low threshold for bullshit was why they’d chosen each other in the meetings.

“Anna. I can’t help you if you're not going to help yourself.”

Anni set her jaw, gaze falling back to the tall Christmas tree that lit up the murky winter sky above them.

“I’ll be fine for months.” She protested limply “I’ll forget and my life just goes on. Friends, family, work, rinse and repeat. Maybe I even meet someone, and they’re nice and they like me and I like them and it’s fun and maybe it’s even getting a little bit serious and then…” her lip quivered and her perfectly shaped eyebrows dipped into a frown below the rim of her woollen hat as the tears welled again. Eyes glistening with the bright reflections of the festive lights that danced around her, their grief didn’t match their setting. “I wake up. I think I see him in a crowd. I think I hear him in the next aisle. I remember. Especially at this time of year…I remember what I did to him and the last time I saw him. I remember what we had and I want it back. I remember the fact that I’ll never see him again, even though it feels like he’s just in the next room. I can never go in. I just…” finally a sob broke free “I can’t go in. And it’s raw again. And I ruin everything. All the good things that I have. I just burn it all to the ground. I miss him. He’s gone and I remember he’s gone and why. And I just want to use so badly, because I know that will make all of this go away. I know I’ll go to sleep again, where he doesn’t exist at all… After everything, everything I did, I want to forget too. So badly. I want to forget.”

#anni #annika #lloyd x anni

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lockwoodlitherland · 2 years

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Colin Zabel having a having an existential crisis.

#Anni #contemporary universe

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lockwoodlitherland · 3 years

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HOLLIE

Late May in Toronto meant that the air was thick and sticky with the heat and humidity rolling in alongside the Spring storms. Hollie wasn’t sure if the AC in her bedsit had ever worked or if the janky old thing was just for show; it did give off that particularly grimey, retro vibe that made Queen West popular. Despite the best efforts of herself and her roommates every strongly worded email to their landlord on the subject had been left unresolved. So, at this point, Hollie had given up all hope of sleeping comfortably through the muggy evenings. Sleep came in fits and starts of one or two hours at most. Often, she woke to find herself laying naked and sweating, limbs tangled in the cotton bed sheet. The more she struggled to free herself the more restrained she became, as if stuck in a Chinese finger puzzle. For some reason she was dreaming of drowning, tangled up in ropes that morphed into the white twisted sheet as she peeled open her eyelids and focused her vision. Instead of laying there, sweltering and struggling to breathe the stifling air collecting around her, Hollie took to walking in the early hours. Hoping that the cars passing by might whip up enough of a cool gust to provide a moment of relief from the heat.

At first Hollie tried not to take the same path, preferring to meander with her thoughts, allowing curiosity to lead her. Yet, increasingly she found herself drawn towards Church and Wellesley, specifically to the gardens of the Metropolitan United Church. If she timed it just right, Hollie knew she would be able to see the silhouetted figure of a woman lounging on a balcony in the towering apartment complex opposite the church; the orange tip of a cigarette growing brighter every time she took a drag. The first time she saw her Hollie had glanced up almost by chance, a fleeting moment of interest, wondering if she would be there. Hollie hadn’t actually expected to see her there, she just knew Annika lived there. But there she was, every night Hollie walked by, always around 2am. Her visage was shadowy in the dull light but Hollie could make out the long hair unfurled over a shoulder, her back lent against the glass of the window and one bare leg propped up on the ledge. Most nights she was wearing what looked like a man’s sweatshirt, even in this heat. Although Hollie supposed there might actually be a breeze seven stories up. Hollie could never make out the logo.

Things had been weird with Annika ever since what Hollie assumed was their first date. Anni had all but run away from her just after Hollie touched her leg and just before she intended to kiss her. Hollie messed up, got too intimate, made Annika uncomfortable. Scared her off, story of my life. She saw some kind of fear in Annika’s big viridescent eyes before she vanished into the freezing evening. My stupid gay brain asssuming things.

Hollie had waited exactly 27 minutes before going after Annika, bringing the coat she left behind. She didn’t find her but a few hours later she received a text:

‘Annie 🎹: Went home, didn’t feel well, sorry x’

Hollie still had the coat. It hung over the back of the chair in the corner of her room, an ever-present awkward reminder of that night. She intended to give it back but their friendship hadn’t seemed to recover from the failed meander down the dating lane yet.

The chill of residual embarrassment Hollie felt paired with the memory of the freezing breeze that night helped to cool her down in the present. Tonight, like every night that month, Hollie lay naked on her bed, a trickle of sweat running down her side from her underboob. Annika hadn’t been around much since the incident with Heloise Rosewood and notorious talent manager, Len Cabot. It was wise of Anni to lay low for a while, let the black spot on her name fade from the entertainment scene, let them forget. Hollie herself once had similar problems with Cabot and Heloise. Instead of telling them where to stuff it, like Annika did, Hollie went along with their requests for an easier life. People tell Hollie that they're intimidated by her when they first meet her, she always thought that was silly. It’s only in knowing Annika that Hollie finally understood what that felt like.

Hollie scrunched her nose up at the thought of the last time she’d seen Anni. Earlier that week she’d found herself walking through the greenery at the front of the Met Church again. Glancing up to the West facing balcony, seventh floor, as usual, there she was; glowing ember of her cigarette lighting up like a fiery jewel in the darkness above the streetlights. The silhouette was unusual this time though, there were too many limbs, it was too broad. Hollie squinted then looked away hurriedly. Annika was with a man. Sat on a man, to be more exact. Holding the cigarette to his lips before meeting them with her own. Hollie shuddered. Obviously that woman has a boyfriend.

Now, it was 2am and the night was fairly cool compared to its predecessors. Hollie was jogging off a nervous energy. In less than a week’s time she’d be running theater classes for kids at Camp Australia. Hollie loved teaching children. Their enthusiasm and optimism filled her up and gave her purpose. Some of her favourite jobs working freelance in Toronto had been singing in the churches and the schools; this year it was always Anni accompanying her on the piano. Hollie stopped at traffic lights, jogging on the spot and losing her train of thought to take in her surroundings. She’d done it again. She was at the corner of Queen Street East and Church. The little hand flashed green and Hollie continued on, determined not to look up at the balcony. She was concentrating so much on not looking in that direction in fact, that she ran directly into an oncoming Uber Eats bike.

The delivery driver got back on their bike after the collision. They shouted something at her as they rode off but Hollie didn’t hear it, she was too dazed and worried about the sharp pain in her leg. A passerby helped her up off the floor. He had kind hazel eyes but they were sleepless, just as hers were. He was tall and fit, with the deep sun kissed tan of someone who hadn’t long been in the cloudy city. Hollie insisted she was fine multiple times before he was satisfied enough to leave her, continuing on his own jog and scratching at his short dark hair.

Hollie hobbled over to a bench, tentatively lowering herself down before examining her injuries. As she was looking down the reddish welts forming against the skin on her side she heard the voice.

“Hollie? Oh shit, is that blood?”

That voice had been the first piece of Annika Hollie experienced. Eight or so months ago now, Anni called her to ask if the troop still needed a piano accompanist. They hadn’t, the advert was outdated. But Hollie asked Anni to come along to practice anyway. There was just something about her voice, it’s energy. The accent was British but hard to place, her cadence and the way she bounced off certain words was satisfying. At first Hollie thought Annika might be Scandinavian. It was only on their date, as Annika was half way out the door, she mentioned the Russian thing. Hollie could hear it now, just slightly, in the way she said ‘blood’.

“Bet that smarts.” Anni winced.

The woman walked towards her from the pavement, all legs and hair and boobs. She wore a crisp white and lilac pinstripe shirt tied up at her waist and a pair of denim shorts that hugged her thighs and hips. Hollie looked down at her own legs, running shorts hanging loose as if her grazed legs had shrunk inside them. Annika crouched down in front of Hollie. One hand held what looked like a fancy cone of mint-choc-chip ice cream, she placed the other on Hollie’s knee.

“Hit and run with an Uber driver,” Hollie explained, holding her head, “wasn't looking where I was going.”

“Ugh. Neon pink helmet?”

It took a second for Hollie to answer the oddly specific question, “Erm... yeah?”

“Fucking Alex. Arsehole. Their boyfriend lives in my building. Come on,” Anni stood up holding her arms out for Hollie to grab onto. “We can leave a passive-aggressive note on their front door. Plus, I’m pretty sure there’s a first aid box shoved at the back of one of my kitchen cupboards. ”

Hollie still felt dazed as she hoisted herself up with Anni’s help, “Are you sure this is ok-“

“I mean, most of the shit in there is probably out of date. But if all else fails I’ve got vodka and wipes. And I’ve been watching a lot of Greys Anatomy recently, so don’t worry, I’m essentially a trauma surgeon. Hold my ice cream.”

Hollie hopped trepidatiously with a mint-choc-chip ice cream in one hand and Annika supporting her other. She felt strangely guilty for the way having Annika’s body pressed against hers was making her feel.

Remember the boyfriend Hollie, you perv, remember the horror in her eyes when you caressed her thigh like the hot lesbian mess you are.

The two safely made their way across the road and into the apartment complex. Anni took her ice cream back when they entered the lift, doing damage control with her tongue to tidy up the drippy edges. Hollie stopped herself from looking, staring down at her leg again instead. That wasn’t quite dripping with blood yet, but it was getting there. The grazes and raised red patches across her dark skin looked worse under harsh lights of the elevator. Hollie could feel the tension building the longer they stood in silence in the confined space. They never stopped talking to each other at practice, like naughty high schoolers gossiping in class, they received annoyed glances from other members of the troop. Things are different now.

“In what way is Alex an asshole?” Hollie asked finally, opening up some conversation “Aside from the obvious.” She gestured at her leg. “Beat their boyfriend, mean to their dog?”

Anni glanced down at the leg before meeting Hollie’s eyes properly for the first time, she smirked at the question. Hollie tried not to focus on the way Anni’s mouth moved.

“Boyfriend, don’t know. Dog? Seems fine. Yappy though. I think all yappy dogs are deeply unhappy on some existential level. Not sure how much Alex has to do with that.”

Hollie laughed.

“I don’t like the way Alex regards me.” Annika admitted finally. “It’s just a bit…pervy.”

Hollie felt a slight twinge of shame and didn’t speak again for the rest of the journey upwards, trying not to regard Annika in any ‘pervy’ way.

Annika’s apartment was deliciously cool and chic. The entryway transitioned into an open plan kitchen. A counter segmented the living space surrounded by walls of glass on two sides, the cityscape rolling out before them. The door to her bedroom was open slightly to the left of the living room and Hollie could spy the balcony she’d been looking up at all month, finally from the opposite side. The walls were stark white, sparsely adorned by artwork and picture frames. Strips of LED lights ran across the ceiling seam, a warm pale orange light which mellowed out the harsh white lines of the room. All the furniture was plush cream and grey stone, stylish but comfortable. Annika’s piano sat pride of place, taking up a huge corner of the space. It was the only tidy spot in the flat as far as Hollie could tell. Music sheets, clothes, shoes, empty cups, bags, towels, tobacco, crumpled receipts, smoking paraphernalia, just stuff, littered everywhere. For someone who’s appearance was so clean and considered Annika lived like a slob. Hollie was glad for it really, it humanised Annika in a way, softened her on the pedestal where Hollie had placed her. She scanned through clutter trying to perceive anything typically masculine in nature, she didn’t find anything. Although she did spy a small clear bag of mysterious pills that she decided not to comment on.

“Your apartment looks like an IKEA showroom that’s been trashed by a toddler.”

Annika laughed as she squatted at a kitchen cabinet, rummaging through its contents. Her laugh was a light, raw, raspy sound that Hollie couldn’t help smile at.

“How do you afford this? My dumpster bedsit doesn’t even have AC.”

“I don’t. It’s his.” Annika nodded to a specific cluster of photos on the wall to her far right. Hollie hobbled over to look more closely.

She noticed that many of the photographs were of Annika standing, laughing, joking around with attractive men of all shapes, sizes and creeds. Her heart sank particularly at the ones Annika pointed out. They mostly featured a beautiful blonde man with tanned skin, hazel eyes, an eight pack and a jawline that could cut glass. Like some golden Adonis sculpted in the Renaissance period. Hollie recognised him too, she wondered briefly if she’d seen him on reality TV.

Of course this is her boyfriend. Hollie snarled to herself a little.

There he was on some white sand beach holding a cocktail and practically glimmering like a twilight vampire. There he was riding a fucking elephant. There he was holding Annika, grinning with perfect teeth, one of his stupidly chiselled arms draped over her shoulders, Annika looked happy. It would be funny if she weren’t so sickeningly jealous- of what exactly she wasn’t sure. It bubbled in her stomach like indigestion.

“I have news.” Anni said, wandering up behind her “Vodka and wipes are gunna have to do the job.”

“Sounds like a party.”

“Well, I did bring shot glasses too.” They made a tinkling sound as Anni chinged them together, holding them between her fingers.

“As long as you don’t pull out floss and a sewing needle as well I’m good.”

Hollie had two shots of vodka, Anni had one. She tied her hair back. Hollie found herself staring at her neck as Anni got to work cleaning up the harsh grazes. Considering her chaotic nature and heavy handedness at times, Annika’s touch was gentle and considered. She went about the task as if she’d done it before.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The words came out clipped. Hollie wanted to resist her kindness in some way, to be cold, to punish her. Hollie wasn’t sure if it was jealousy of the man in the pictures, of Annika herself, or annoyance from the date, or just the fact that Annika’s sheer perfection was a personal affront to her. Hollie took another shot.

Annika giggled to herself and Hollie snapped back into the moment, suddenly self-conscious.

“What?” She felt like a broken magnet, being drawn to and repelled from Annika all at once.

“Nothing, I just heard my sister in my head telling me I shouldn’t have let you drink because alcohol’s a blood thinner.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah,” Annika almost sighed the word “I’ve got a couple.”

Silence set between them for a moment. Hollie wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. She was hurt, dizzy, tired and now tipsy in Annika’s apartment, not the night she expected. What she wanted to say was that she applied for Camp Australia after their failed date. She wanted Annika to feel some kind of way about it, bad, sad, something. As if Hollie might have stayed if it went any other way. Although she knew that probably wasn’t true. Australia was something that she’d wanted for a while, before Anni.

Anni poured them each another shot.

“So do you often run into oncoming traffic or is this a new hobby?” Asked Anni eventually, taking back the vodka smoothly before wrapping Hollie’s leg in a dressing.

“Yeah actually, I heard it’s good for sleep.” Hollie winced a little at the tightening of the bandage.

Annika responded instinctually by holding her hand over the sore area for a moment, an amused smile on her face “The ultimate sleep definitely.”

“From which I’ll never return.” Hollie agreed, smiling back at Anni, their eyes locked. “And are you a secret eater? What’s with the two AM ice cream?”

“I hate being hot.” Anni explained with a smile, standing up and going to the kitchen, collecting a bottle of wine and two glasses as she spoke. “I found this little gelato place near Queens Park on my way home from a session once, it was like three AM, I thought I was dreaming. The woman who owns it, Gianna, I went in and I got chatting with her. I was pissed like. She told me she opens whenever she’s awake, and her arthritis gives her grief when the storms are around, so.”

Annika didn’t ask Hollie if she wanted to partake, she just handed her a full glass. Hollie wasn’t much of a wine person but she accepted the glass eagerly.

“Mint choc-chip is a contentious choice.”

Annika grinned, sitting close on the couch beside her. Hollie tried not to picture Annika getting railed by the blonde-haired, brown-eyed Mr. Hollywood on this couch.

“It was my Granma’s favourite. She always had a tub in the freezer and we’d sit on the couch together late at night when I couldn’t sleep. Watch those crappy eternal reruns of a ghost hunting show, oh my god, what was it called? The main lady, she was so full of shit, all of them were really, I still remember exactly how she screamed, she was called Yvette.” Annika laughed, touching Hollie on the arm before she continued, smiling to herself as if surprised to be caught in the happy memory. Hollie smiled along with her, eyes fixed. “Anyway, when I’m too hot and I can’t sleep I go and see Giana, and I buy an ice cream for my Gran, and we put the world to rights.”

Their conversation rolled on in much the same way as the night progressed and drink flowed. Hollie found Anni so easy to talk to, despite their recent distance and the horrible date, they defaulted to the way things had been from the start. Perhaps because of the transience of their relationship; they’d known each other briefly and Hollie was leaving again soon. Hollie found herself talking about her childhood, things she’d only ever spoken about with her ex and her therapist. Her first kiss, Australia, the kids that bullied her at school. Anni spoke about being the bully, the reasons why. There was a girl that she bullied in school, her friend, the way Anni tentatively described their relationship it smacked classic lesbian energy to Hollie, which made her feel some strange relief.

They went deeper. Hollie spoke about her own family. Her Grandfather, visiting him in Jamaica when she was five or six. The memory box her father had her make when he died. She snuck some gizzada in there; her dad told her not to but it’s what reminded Hollie of her Grandy the most. A few weeks later the house was infested with ants, who’d eaten through the shoe box to get at the sugary remains of the desert. She even found herself telling Anni about how her dad threw that shoe box at her when he found out. Hollie still couldn’t stand ants to this day and her relationship with her dad had pretty much spiralled out from there. Annika scowled at this story and she didn’t ask anymore questions about her dad. Hollie was grateful for that.

Annika talked about how she used to hate the beach. Hollie listened, head swimming with wine as Annika spoke again about her Grandmother whose name was Rosie. Visiting her in England before eventually living with her as a young teen. One summer they sat on Southport beach and Anni was ravaged by sand fleas. She still flinches frantically whenever she feels a tickle on her leg, like Hollie does because of the ants. Anni said the beach made her feel itchy and the sea smelled like salty decay. It used to remind her of death, she said, but that changed. It was something to do with a guy, by the way she skirted around the details Hollie could tell this was a big ex, but she didn’t get a chance to delve deeper because next she told Hollie about the time she drowned. That was in fresh water though, no salt around.

This reminded Hollie of the dream she kept having about drowning before she wakes up and realises she’s tangled in her sheets. Suddenly Hollie remembered what time it was, where she was, the bizarre context for their situation hit her drunken mind like a sobering train. Annika swayed a little as she padded over to the bathroom, leaving Hollie alone in her living room surrounded by photographs of a woman she was sickeningly smitten with, despite herself, and all of her these fucking grinning men.

Hollie stood up and half limped, half swayed her own way over to Annika’s piano. She’d forgotten about her leg, it caught her by surprise and made her wince as she leant her weight on it, although vodka shots and wine had faded the pain somewhat.

Hollie picked up some sheets of music and scribblings strewn about the shiny ebony case, squinting to focus her vision. Some of this was good, like, really good. Hollie could hear the music play in her head. It was sad though, heartsick.

“This is good. Did you write it for your boyfriend?” Hollie blurted out when she heard Annika open the bathroom door.

Hollie instantly felt cold, the courage and spite she held fading fast as the subject she wanted to bring up for weeks finally left her mind and came into contact with reality. Was Annika leading her on, did she have a boyfriend, was she even a little bit gay? Was it just Hollie’s overenthusiastic gay brain making up a flirtationship that wasn’t there? She’d done it before. Hollie braced herself. She felt Annika move up behind her.

“Thanks,” Anni plucked the sheet music from Hollie’s hand and sat at her bench. She was smiling to herself coyly, she could see that Hollie was filled with instant regret. “My boyfriend?”

Hollie pointed to the golden Adonis in the photographs. Annika didn’t say anything, she raised an eyebrow, smirking at Hollie, waiting.

Suddenly it clicked. “Oh no, is that your brother?” She had mentioned a little brother once, the man in the photographs was far from little though. Hollie wanted to sink into the ground.

Annika laughed, “Brotherly, definitely. Don’t let him intimidate you, he’s not competition.” Anni threw her a rue smile before running her fingers along the keys in front of her.

Not competition. Hollie’s brain flared up at that hint towards the sapphic.

“I feel awful about picturing you getting railed by him on the sofa now.”

Annika burst out laughing and naturally the conversation turned to sex, as it so often does with a head full of wine and someone you’re tempted by. Talk of threesomes, fetishises, good sex, bad sex, desires, quickly lead to shameless flirting.

Annika played on the piano ideally as she told Hollie what she would beg “someone” to do to her. Hollie sat next to her straddling the beach to face her. They sat closer than they needed to, their bodies practically touching. Hollie’s hand rested on Anni’s inner thigh, as it had before Annika left that night. Now she was going nowhere. Hollie lost her place in time and the next thing she knew she was singing, her fingers moved gently against the soft pale skin of Anni’s thigh as Annika played. When the song was done they both sat grinning at each other, eyes wide with elation. Hollie’s breath was heavy from belting out the final verse of Taylor Swift’s cardigan- the song they’d always flirted with to warm up at practice.

Anni’s arms relaxed and she pulled them back to her from the ivories. The two sat so close that Hollie’s chest was touching Annika’s shoulder. She moved her arm around the back of Hollie’s neck and Hollie responded by moving her other hand around Annika’s waste. Hollie gripped at the flesh of Annika’s hip. Annika leaned into her, eyes falling shut. Hollie moved into her warmth, running the tip of her nose up Annika’s neck to the back of her ear, breath hot and wanting lips brushing against her hairline in what was almost a kiss. They stayed like that for a moment, Hollie felt like the air around and between them was fizzing with anticipation and potential. She finally, longingly, pressed her lips to Annika’s neck, pulling her body into her even more closely. The hand at her hip moved to the flat of Anni’s stomach, preparing to slide downwards.

Hollie flinched back suddenly as Annika’s hand flew down to grab at Hollie’s. She pulled her head back to see Anni’s expression. Her brow was furrowed tightly and there were almost tears in her eyes; something tied her up in knots. Somewhere in her expression Hollie could see the desire for her, for this, but again, she saw an overriding fear in Annika’s eyes. It was clear in the way her lip quivered. Shame for what she couldn't do, guilt for the fact that she wanted to do it and fear that she almost did. Her expression was an apology.

Hollie moved away, standing up quickly, arms held around her stomach, almost in self-preservation, holding herself together. She felt sickeningly exposed and ridiculous. She let it happen again. Hollie backed away but she forgot about her leg again, having to hop quickly on her good one to stop herself from falling.

For whatever reason, Annika wasn’t ready, no matter how many drinks down she was, no matter how many times they tried this. Hollie flashed back to the image she’d seen one night last week, Annika with a man on the balcony.

“Is it the beach guy?” Hollie could hear the slur in her voice.

Annika’s shoulders were tense, she looked as if she was holding her breath. She didn’t say anything. Part of Hollie was furious that things had gone this far again, that she’d let it happen when in her gut she knew something was off. She’s hung up on this guy.

“If I had you…” Hollie heard herself whisper, her general hatred of men bubbling up in the wake of this situation, a fierce jealousy and deep frustration. She rocked a little on her feet, unsure if her unsteadiness was on account of the alcohol or her aching leg, “I wouldn’t make you feel like this.”

Annika didn’t say anything. She could tell that no one had looked at her the way Hollie was right now in a long time.

Hollie left. She left her jacket. Realising after she closed the door. Hollie thought she heard Annika let out the sob she saw her holding tightly in her chest. She didn’t go back in.

As Hollie wobbled through the revolving doors to leave the building she just about noticed someone holding a neon pink helmet under their arm coming through in the other direction.

“Fucking asshole!” She cried out behind her, almost falling into the street of bewildered passers by making their way about their morning commutes in the gentle beginnings of the day.

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