Still Life with Gypsy Girl
Dark haired girl sits at desk scowling. She lifts a cigarette to her mouth for the umpteenth time, unconcerned that it hasn't been lit for almost four minutes now. Tucks it into the corner of her thin lips and straightens a few stray hairs in her eyebrow. She yawns. She always yawns when she's pissed because it's as if to say she is unconcerned. Like a cat who licks itself a moment before it pounces, it is a sign that it has better things to do than stalk prey.
Pieces of songs have jumbled in her head, and she can no longer decifer what it is she is angry about. Angry at it all, maybe? Yes, that's it. And maybe it is this moment when she decides her prey is not worth the feathers it's packaged in.
Nah. She likes to fight the good fight.
So she plans a trip. It's down to gas money, companionship and how much money she'll need to bail herself out. If it indeed comes to that. How she'll make the trip, her car spilling into lane after lane of highway...the dread of teaching someone how to drive stick, as North Carolina does like to pick on her.
The cards did not read well tonight...as they have not in four months...but at least this time they promised resolution. That's all she was asking for to begin with, a shame she had to wait for something like this to bring her around. She snorts at the thought of how much trouble would have been saved if she had just said no.
Gypsy curls her one foot under her butt comfortably, lighting another smoke, and she sits there plotting before deciding nothing can be done about the situation for a few days. Nodding in agreement to herself, she is determined if nothing else, she's getting her painting and her stuffed lion back. Childish, sure, but comforting yes.
And her name. She wants her name back.
She ashes the butt and tucks herself into her lonely couch. She will not sleep alone at least once before she starts her journey. She's been sleeping alone for too long, and it's just not fair. Give in to a little lust, everyone else is. Obviously.
As Gypsy drifts off to sleep, she swears she hears the soft cawwing of crows and fragments of a tune ..." You say you're gonna walk on water, but you'd rather walk all over me"
and she sleeps dreamlessly because there are no more to be had....