#[also just in case: he's quotin frankenstein (:]

[malteseraven]

@followintotheend (continued from here):

“Oh hey…no no…you are uh…fine…I just…figured you know they would be good to sell…lots of uh…Lonely people.” She smiled and put some of the ones in better shape in her bag. “Uh…by the way, thanks for coming with me.” she smiled at him moving to catch up once she had a few best sellers.

She knew a few patrons that would love these, always looking for some light reading. Not that she blamed people, it was a rough life, and even if looking at partly faded pictures of half-naked girls was perverse, it was up to them, not her. “So…where do you think Richard was going?” She motioned to the banner as she looked around, this place was picked clean, but she was happy he went out of his way to help her. “Bon Voyage….” she whispered softly. “I guess it doesn’t matter now though, he never made it….the bombs….it’s a shit way to go, being incinerated…or radiation…” She pouted a bit.

“Yeah,” Nick said, almost like an afterthought. “I won’t mention this to anyone if you won’t.”

But it wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. If anything, he did. Most people weren’t interested in Moby Dick or Shakespeare these days; they were into whatever caught their eye, and if he knew one thing, it was that not even a nuclear apocalypse and raining fallout could ever destroy the impulses of men. Nick wandered over to the piano, a memory coming to mind, and found an empty box of ammo lying on top.

Where was Richard going? Where they all went. Nowhere. Heaven, if you believed. He glanced to the drooping banner then back down to her, catching the hollow look on her face. 

“Now and then you wonder who the lucky ones are: Us. Or them.” But he thought he knew the answer: None. And the people who made the bombs, the people who pushed those buttons… “’Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.’”

The dust settled. He pried open the piano, glanced over the keys, then turned back to her. Was she still sad? “You know, I’m told Nick could carry a tune,” he started, lifting the mood. “Shouldn’t be too bad — if you make a break for it.”