Follows the incomplete writeup I was working on 06:00Z. It was to end when Marissa and I left the function, after continued reflection, and ultimately discussion on why I was there instead of the guy who she wanted and who should have been. I do links on the fly when writing mostly, except for times when I'm locked into a narrow tunnel where I can't think about anything else, something that often happens when transcribing real events. I was going to run through and do links afterward on this one. I will probably try and post the third and final part to I Know You, I Walked With You Once Upon A Dream as soon as I can sort some things out and get back to civilization and whatnot. I'm talking about the fictional piece that started with An American In Paris, for those who weren't following it.

Apologies for the node repost that just happened, there was a misunderstanding between myself and our director.

So long y'all. You may distribute my love and hugs and whatnot amongst yourselves. Clocks tick on me.


"What?" My mind snapped back to the present. It had been miles away a moment ago. A woman stood just in front of me in a shoulderless turquoise dress falling to just below her knees. Her six inch heeled black gladiator sandals brought the top of her bobbing silky brown curls to the same height as my own head. When I say 'just in front of me,' I mean a foot away, although her arms were wrapped half around my shoulders, so I'm not sure that even counts as away at all. Small screws dangled from her ears on fine wire, a pair recovered from the prototype her father was killed working on. Her expression was serious, out of place on a dance floor. I tried to resync my movements with hers. "Sorry, Marissa."

"You're stepping on my toes."

I know. I'm sorry. I didn't say so verbally though. I shouldn't have even been here. She'd asked me to come months ago, but I knew now I wasn't the one she wanted.

"Let's take a break." She dragged me off to a quasi-bar where other guests sat drinking and chatting. I'd been staring fixedly in the direction of a couple at the end. "What's wrong?"

I hesitated before answering, and brought my gaze round to lock with Marissa's. "I shouldn't be here." She showed no immediate reaction, then looked puzzled. "I know I promised to be your date, but I shouldn't have, and I shouldn't be your date tonight.


"You should have come with Brad."

"But you're my best friend." So? That wasn't the point. And I was pretty sure I wasn't actually much of a friend to her any more, but I felt now was not the time to raise this.

"I'm not just stepping on your toes out there on the dance floor, I'm getting between you and Brad. You know he worked overtime for months to buy a suit to wear here when you told him you didn't have someone for tonight?" Of course she didn't know, and I probably shouldn't really have told her. She forgot she'd promised to take me when she told him."

"You were looking forward to tonight weren't you?"

"I was looking forward to seeing you again for the first time in six months. It's July, you've barely spoken to me since Christmas."

"I've been very busy, you know that."

"Indeed I do, and that's why he should be here tonight, continuing to keep you busy."

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