Spinning Dizzy - First night on Iscariot

Started by Evelyn Maddox, April 19, 2020, 07:34:28 pm

Evelyn Maddox

Accommodations on Iscariot Station weren't so much rustic as they were just plain rusty. Evelyn tried not to be too judgemental about such things but it was hard not to notice. The bed was a tad lumpy, the furnishings sparse and utilitarian. The ceiling itself was spotted with dark patches of rust and the metal fan spinning lazily above the bed moved at a snail's pace that barely affected the air flow. On every fifth rotation it creaked something awful. Every fifth. She knew, because she had been staring at it for over an hour.

Perhaps there was another deck somewhere that boasted more comfortable lodgings, or perhaps not. The truth was that Evelyn was far too stressed and far too knackered to solve that dilemma, or any of the other half a dozen or so dilemmas that were swimming around in her head. Alcohol played its part too, of course. A fuzzy warm sensation spread outward from her head, not so much that the spinning fan above made her nauseous but just enough to sap her of any kind of motivation.

Evie wiggled her toes and realized for the second time that the tight discomfort in her feet was due to the fact that she'd yet to kick off her shoes. She recalled realizing that very fact not five minutes before only to flop her head back down onto the pillow, unable to summon the energy to kick them off. Her chest rose and fell with a slow, ponderous breath. Outspread arms drifted in close enough to prop herself up by her elbows and then drag her pi gu to the edge of the bed. She sat up, feet dangling, and dug her toes against her heels to peel off her shoes, one by one. Reluctant groan aside, she managed to force herself to get up and stagger toward her unopened, overstuffed luggage.

This all has to wait. It can't wait. I need it to. As her brain played tug-of-war with itself Evie absently unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off her legs. Whether stress would wait to plague her until the morning or meant to harass her all night, she was at least determined to shed the denim and sleep more comfortably. She took a knee by the luggage and yanked on the zipper. It was a bit too nippy to sleep in underwear, and maybe she would be lucky enough that a pair of sweats was sitting right at the top.

Or not.

Hasty packing meant a few items spilled out of the opening straight away, sweat pants not among them. A rolled up pair of striped socks hit the floor first, right next to a tooth brush and a trio of loose photographs. The photo that landed on top caught her eye. She reached down and damn near jammed her thumb trying to pick it up - alcohol, exhaustion, or both apparently made the floor look further away than it really was. Evie blinked heavily, her mission for sweats forgotten. Her attempt to stand ended with a flop that left her sitting on the floor, but at least the bed was close enough to sit with her back to the frame.

Evie smiled, despite it all, and pinched her teeth against the corner of her mouth. Thoughts of home and family were few and far between. All except for Conny. She missed their teenage escapades, the way he used to look at her like some kind of hero, and his big, goofy grin. What would he think of her now, she wondered?

"Oh Conny, what have I stepped in now? I think I really bodged things up this time."

Heavy eyelids drifted shut and her head rocked backward until it rested against the side of the mattress.
"Just tilt your head and it won't look like we're flying squiffy anymore, love."

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