Narrative 1
It is freezing cold outside. Inhumanly so. 11pm and the snow is pouring down; really it may as well be raining. Nothings open. Nowhere to eat. No one is answering their phone. I have a bottle of wine in the fridge... something abandoned weeks ago at some last minute party I threw. All I need is a night of comfort and booze. I hate breakups. The whole scenario is ridiculous and overly contrived. Its like following directions really...they say this, I say that, someone cries, and I end up drinking and eating the night away. Corner store it is, thatll have to suffice in assuaging this sense of loss. I dont even know why I care, its not like breakups are ever unforeseen, nor even a surprise in the moment they happen. By myself some flowers, and a whole lot of crap. The guy at the counter is clearly piecing it all together. Sausages, gingerbread, chocolates, flowers, eggs and coffee. Hah, he probably thinks I have someone back at home and am making a night of it. Oh if only he knew... well he would be sadly dissapointed if thats the picture hes painted. I have no desire to hit the street again, mind you its not like I'd rather be subject to his judging gaze another minute. I'll watch a movie... thats it... what movie though? I hate romantic comedies... maybe a horror? But I cant stand horror movies.. they freak me the fuck out. Sigh... TV dvds it is... Arrested Development I think. Amazing how we do all of this ritualistic preparation for grieving. When really.... dont we already know the end goal? Arent we already there? Im over it. I just wanna go to bed. Well. Maybe after the box of chocolates.
Narrative 2
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