Tuesday’s edition of Memories of Green: San Francisco has Jo tossing and turning in bed.
Date – 29/06/2089 – 04:03AM
Subject – Night
I think the night is the worst. I lie in bed and think of him. There’s an empty space in the bed where he usually lies next to me, smoking his cigarettes. I hate him smoking inside but right now I miss the smell of smoke in the bedroom. I’ve even smoked a few myself just so when I close my eyes I can trick myself into thinking he’s there. I just imagine him like he used to be, smoking, drinking coffee at 2AM and tapping away at his computer. Even from behind closed eyelids I know he isn’t beside me though, and I have to get up and open the window to let the smoke out so I don’t stay awake all night thinking of him.
Its so quiet. I can usually hear him watching some stupid video. Yawning in that stupid bassy way that used to get on my nerves. The silence these days is only broken by sirens wailing into the night, or a gunship drifting over the house. I miss the way he used to irritate me by keeping me up until 4AM with his smoking and typing. These days I’d love it if he was here, just tapping at his laptop, not thinking of the fact I have work in the morning. Its funny, its 4:10 now, and even though he isn’t here, he’s still keeping me awake. The bastard.
I’m still throwing up. I’ll have to phone the doctor in the morning, well, after I’ve slept at least. I’m starting to think its not just worry that keeps me throwing up, and this feeling in the pit of my stomach isn’t going away. I hope I get an appointment in one of those out of town clinics. I can’t be doing with all the C.P on guard, looking out for Unregistereds trying to get mercy checkups, or the people hacking grey matter onto the waiting room carpets. I just need a quiet appointment; I just need to find out what’s wrong with me. Have to pick up some medicine for Saul tomorrow too. I don’t even know what’s wrong with him. The old man looks like he’s falling apart though, I could give him floor cleaner and it’d probably do him some good.
I hate Galen sometimes, I wish he never went away to Washington. It can’t be long before they get some news. I think it’s the quiet that gets me the most.
Another gunship, searching in the night.
A scream in the distance.
A siren, speeding away into the blackness.
Jo.
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