Subject: [OTL]: [Pryde] Destiny [1:11]
Date: Sun, 1 Dec 2002 18:44:07 -0800 (PST)
From: D Benway <d_benway@yahoo.com>

Destiny [1:11]

prognosticated by Benway

This story makes not-for-profit use of some characters belonging to
Marvel Comics and DC Comics.

This story has some horrible bits and some language, but nothing too
gratuitous. No recognizable political figures were subject to harsh and
abusive ridicule in the manufacture of this document. Spam is a
registered trademark of the Hormel Corp.

____________________________________________________________________

"Hey."

"Look, Kris, that message I left-"

"No, I don't think it was impersonal. It addressed most of the issues
remaining between us."

"It wasn't ever going to work out."

"Thank you."

"Look, if you're not going to be civil-"

"I do have some respect for you. That's why I didn't send it back COD."

"You know I don't go for stuffed animals."

"Alright, it was a nice gesture, but look, it's still over."

"It's over."

"It's over."

"What did you say?"

"That's what I thought you said. If you were here, you'd be paying for
that."

"Just try it. I dare you."

"Look-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake-"

"I'm calling the cops."

"I do know where you are. You're in front of Crerar. Dozens of people
must be able to see you crying."

"I do know. And I know the cops can get there in seconds."

"I will not feel even the slightest bit guilty. You do that and I'll
think you're a contemptible little turd for the rest of my life."

"Go to the counseling centre."

"I'm not a counselor, and even if I was I couldn't-"

"What they can do or not do for me is not the issue. I didn't just tell
my ex that I was going to-"

"Yes, I'm an ex. Get used to it."

"Look-"

"What did I see? You're good in bed."

"That's about it, yes."

"Well, I hoped there'd be more, too."

"There isn't. There just isn't. It's best to end it now."

"They're in a plastic bag in your refrigerator. I don't keep trophies."

"Well, I'm sorry, too."

"No, I don't think we can still be friends. Let's just try to be civil
when we meet. You can manage that, can't you?"

"Well fuck you, too."

Kitty closed her mobile, and placed it on the night table. She stared
up at the ceiling, illuminated by the grey November morning sky. She
looked over at her desk, 4 feet away, where the diaries sat. She looked
at the clock. It was 8:30, the wrong 8:30, only three hours after
she'd gone to bed. Breakfast was only available for another hour, but
she'd been planning to sleep in until lunch. She looked up at the crack
in the ceiling, the one shaped like Hammer Bay.

"Fuck," she said. "Fuck you all."

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