Re: log: easy + miles; reunion
Silence can speak for itself. The stand of it, the sluggardly stalk of the corpseworm tick of the seconds, finely unrolling. He wasn’t sure if he should inquire again, not so fast, his brow nudged up some with an antsy trepidation, kinda worried about what was thought of him now. He lazes in the quiet afterwards, not precisely waiting for Easy to fork over any answers, but just bashfully considering to himself in the drip of it. He hadn’t really wanted him to say yes, truth be told. He thinks, if he was only asking in some bizarre fan-fall of his mothwing imagination, in a stretch of his own absurd intoxication, it could be passed off as some unknown impulse. It could be overlooked. He could’ve meant anything.
He was wisping over the lonely case of beer with a cigarette parked limply between his chapped lips, tourniqueted in his dark thoughts like a semiwounded beast plotting its next move for survival. There’s an extraction of a can, the soft burst of it’s opening. He handed over to Easy, got himself one after. Misty had gone too long being quiet. Miles looked on to a spewing conifer and its litter of pine needles he’d have to comb up, and then it was enough of all that silence. Misty chirped.
He’s fuckin’ lyin’ anyways, she crossed her arms. Miles ignored her. Looked me right in the eye!, she went on. She then marched right up to him, You know he’s an idiot and real sensitive about this dumb shit, and you gunna let him think he’s crazy?