Jeremy Frost
They provided a nice supply of warmth it was transported
spoonful by spoonful from the outside world into my grateful
stomach which seemed to still retain some of the steaming heat a
good half hour after the meal was over. Dark when the day started,
dark when the day ended, no wonder they call it the London blues.
The shock and sadness was still fresh. Tears gently sat back, letting
you know they were ready to go at the slightest hair trigger. The day
rolled by.
Dog tired I headed back to my temporary lodging. I removed
the inmate phone from the scratched shiny steel call box and called
up to Fedor’s apartment. There was no answer. I tried a number of
times over the next hour as well as repeated calls to his cell phone
but to no avail. It did not look good. Strange, I thought. This guy was
pretty dependable.
My cousin’s place was out of the question. I could not by any
means poke my head in to their grief after one night away. It was
just not right. I did feel awkward again at going back to my sisters,
since I did not want to offend her partner who had encouraged me to
leave. I was in a bind though and again, had no place to stay. At least
it wasn’t snowing. It did however begin raining heavily.
Fuck. I called Emelia but she was not answering. Fuck. I was
just going to have to swallow my pride, get onto the train and arrive
at their doorstep, wet and bedraggled. She would understand and old
Gustave would just have to be onerous and whiney behind closed
doors all evening. I hurried to Kings Cross. I ran to the platform and
looked at all the rows of red led lights only to read NO MORE
TRAINS, next to the platform of the very one I needed.
I was apparently shit out of luck. But then I cast aside my
tragic consequences and decided to fight fire with fire. I was going
to fight the forces of melancholy by morphing into my superhero
alter-ego Mr. Super Emo. It was time to take the Emo into overdrive.
My emo delusion was thus; I was a man beset on all sides by
forces of sadness and had found himself alone, wet, and without a
place to lay his weary head in a strange, unforgiving land. Would I
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