Re: Log: Micah & Louis
His saving grace had been the water and the chaotic way it swept aside everything in its path. Micah had been deposited in the entry-way to a nearby store, wedged in behind some sign that had come to rest there as well, and as the water drained away, disappearing back to wherever it had come from, he sputtered and coughed and tried to make sense out of what had just happened. He was soaked from head to toe and already shivering with the cold winter air, and it took more than a little effort to get himself up to his feet, braced upon the sign with the absence of his cane.
He cast about for Louis, for the one who was responsible for this, but nothing looked familiar in the sea of people that were also trying to make sense of the situation. Across the way, he could see the theater, the blown out doors and windows, and his lips pursed into a thin line at the sight.
This was much more than he was prepared for. Much, much more.
But he'd have time to think on it back home. Not Gatsby, no. The carnival.
It was a long journey back, and by the time he was through the door, his body was aching, his hip was white-hot and stiff, and he was no closer to a solution to this problem than he had been before. But there was anger to fuel him on this time, betrayal by that woman.
They would all pay in time. Every single one of them.