CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
PROLOGUE
Claire hadn't really wanted to go to the funeral. She wasn't a fan of funerals in general, and she hadn't known her great uncle very well. She didn't think her mother had ever been very close to him either, but she always attended the funerals of relatives and she'd asked Claire to come along. So here she was, sitting in her wheelchair at the end of the aisle, while someone she didn't know talked about a dead old man she hadn't known. She didn't want to yawn. He'd been a person, he deserved respect. But...she was bored. So bored...
"What's everyone looking so sad for?" came a voice. A voice out of her past. An impossible voice. He was locked up somewhere, he couldn't be here, it couldn't be him. And yet...
"Johnny Nose," she whispered to herself. She turned her head. He was walking down the aisle of the funeral home, staggering. She tried to look up at his face but he was swaying so badly that it was hard. He had a bottle of vodka in one hand. He paused for a moment near her. She almost didn't want to look now, but she met his eyes. He looked so much older than before. So rough. So haunted. And yet...she almost started laughing. Johnny Fucking Nose.
"What is this, a funeral?" he asked, then took a swig of vodka.
Claire hadn't really wanted to go to the funeral. She wasn't a fan of funerals in general, and she hadn't known her great uncle very well. She didn't think her mother had ever been very close to him either, but she always attended the funerals of relatives and she'd asked Claire to come along. So here she was, sitting in her wheelchair at the end of the aisle, while someone she didn't know talked about a dead old man she hadn't known. She didn't want to yawn. He'd been a person, he deserved respect. But...she was bored. So bored...
"What's everyone looking so sad for?" came a voice. A voice out of her past. An impossible voice. He was locked up somewhere, he couldn't be here, it couldn't be him. And yet...
"Johnny Nose," she whispered to herself. She turned her head. He was walking down the aisle of the funeral home, staggering. She tried to look up at his face but he was swaying so badly that it was hard. He had a bottle of vodka in one hand. He paused for a moment near her. She almost didn't want to look now, but she met his eyes. He looked so much older than before. So rough. So haunted. And yet...she almost started laughing. Johnny Fucking Nose.
"What is this, a funeral?" he asked, then took a swig of vodka.