geo and syn

who: syn and geo
where: park cemetery
when: afternoon

Hey, Geo. I have something for you, if you come by the gallery sometime soon. I should be in later today if you'd like, and if not, I could meet you somewhere. Outside right now is a good thing, not getting into why on the phone. Hope to hear from you soon. Talk to you later.

Who: Buttahfly
When: 5:10am
wish i had called before now, sorry. still alive for wat thats worth

Who: Syn
When: 5:15am
Still alive i think, sorry i didnt leave town dunno what to do now

Who: Herbert
When: 6:00am
dunno if you saw the news - were both alive and mostly ok but i think im going insane.

Who: Peyton
When: 6:03am
dunno if you saw the news - were both alive and mostly ok but i think im going insane.

Hey, George, it's Syn.. I just wanted to check in to make sure you were alright, and you got your family to safety and the like. I'm still fine, though the town's obviously still fucked. Call me back.

Who: Syn and Geo
Where: Printed Syns.
When: Mid-Afternoon.

Man it was gray. Gray and drizzling and gross. The fine mist was making a less-than fine distraction from the papers. Hell, those papers. Geo didn't want to think about it anymore; didn't want to think about towns slaughtered, families murdered, and so close. Eighty miles, hell. You could drive that in an hour - less, if you were insane and had no care for life and limb...like something that would murder families. The thoughts were frustrating and frightening and made his head and his horizons feel as if they were collapsing; as if he'd taken one step too close to a black hole and the event horizon had taken hold.

His bike left wet tire-tracks behind him as he coasted under awnings, wet rubber hissing against dry concrete. He didn't know where he was going - he was just going. Anything to further the illusion to his mother that he still had a job. As a result, it didn't surprise him when he realized exactly where he was going. That photo shop again...

Who: Syn and Geo
Where: Printed Syns.
When: Afternoon.

Geo hurried away from the funeral home almost as fast as he could manage without flying, twirling the feather he'd recovered between his fingers. The adrenaline was wearing off, the itch between his shoulder blades slowly fading away, leaving his hands shaky. That...that had been not-fun, that had been so not fun that he never ever wanted it to happen ever again.