Week Ten : Wednesday Who: James and Kimberly (if you still want it) When: Early Evening Where: The Rooftop Garden
Coming to this place was starting to seem like the worst mistake he had ever made in his life. Granted, he hadn't hurt anyone since he had been here, but he didn't even feel like himself at all. He didn't feel like the charming, sociable son of a bitch he had always been. Point in fact, he barely felt like talking to anyone. The days seemed to drag on like weeks and the weeks seemed to drag on like months even though he had kept himself distracted with things. Today, however, he was starting to feel like he wasn't even sure why he bothered. But it was done, and she would be on her way soon, hopefully before Noah and Natalia went on vacation together.
Again he found himself disappointed. She had acted as though she cared, pretended like she wanted to help, but really, she had just told him what he wanted to hear again, and again she had lied. She had spoken to him but once since that day and had she even bothered to ask how he was? No. She was the only woman he had ever loved and she didn't give a shit about him. But, and this was really bad on his part, if he couldn't have her, he wasn't going to easily allow anyone else to have her. And anyone that got close would be punished, one way or another, like Noah, who had his coming very soon, though not at all soon enough.
Standing at the ledge where he had been most of the time that he and Natalia had spoke last they met, he focused his gaze on the horizon. Thoughts wandered, Natalia, Noah, Summer, curiosity overtook him, but he found it hard to focus one thing for too long as his thoughts continually went back to one. What would it be like to fly? His father's father had been able to, but being as diluted as he was, James never would.
And it was then that he decided that, ever were things to get so bad, ever were he to get so bad that he could live with himself no longer, death would come in the form of flight so that, at least once, before the end, he would know what it felt like. Morbid, no? He had many thoughts like those. He just tended to keep those thoughts, those ideas, to himself.