• One.

    My shoes were on fire. I quickly put them out and put them on. The pavement was uneventful as always. Defunke met me at the marquee. It was currently blank. I’ve never been inside that church, but I’ve seen their marquee enough to find it very familiar. I walked through a story of a dream Defunke had last night, and one puppy eyed pout, for a favor I was to do. The school eventually got closer, and eventually my mind was put to other things.

    Nothing amazing happened at school.

    We found eventually found ourselves at the marquee once again, and Defunke hadn’t notice they changed it.

    SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE IT CONTAINS NO CALORIES

    Even I had to admit that was pretty clever.

    Her house came into view. I never did care for the color of anyone’s house; they were probably the same color as the two houses right beside it.
    Her room always did have that certain smell. It wasn’t annoying or enjoyable, it was just there.
    Defunke never did have a sense of organization.


    “What exactly is something that’s made up?” she perked.
    “hmm?” The noodles dripped out of my mouth a tad, on to my lap. I always loved the smell of beef ramen jeans.
    “I mean, what makes the things that we perceive, real? Our senses can be easily fooled into anything right? How do we know if anything actually exists beyond our senses?”
    “Uh, sure…” She never asks anything this perceptive; it really caught me and my ramen jeans off guard.
    “That wasn’t an ‘uh, sure’ kind of answer…” She laughed, playing an empty Esus7 on a guitar.
    “Well I dunno, really, why can’t you just trust your senses like everyone else?” Reflective thinking ruins a styrofoam cup of ramen, no matter what the flavor.
    “Because everyone else is boring…” Pouting as she held her head with her fist.
    “Then I guess I’m boring you then…” I packed up my guitar, made a gesture initiating taking a leave.

    She had intentions of stopping me, but ultimately I left with a belly full of salty noodles.

    Two.

    The pavement was uneventful as always. Defunke met me at the marquee.

    SWALLOW YO_R PRIDE _T CONTAIN NO CAL_R_ES

    I walked through a story of a dream Defunke had last night, and one puppy eyed pout, for a favor I was to do. The school eventually got closer, and eventually my mind was put to other things.

    Nothing amazing happened at school.

    We found eventually found ourselves at the marquee once again, and we noticed the sign:

    SOMETHING IS MISSING FROM CH__CH:

    It took us awhile, but we finally got it.

    I threw my guitar at the bedroom wall across from the window. Acoustic guitars are just as aerodynamic and fragile as they look. Her room was one that didn’t believe in much materialism, which was probably why the dent in the wall was much more noticeable than I hoped. You could almost hear a reminiscent Fdim6 chord hang in the thick air; I guess I was just attached to having that guitar.

    Defunke’s expression was one of astonishment. She was angry, but she would’ve liked to know the motive I had. I honestly wish she knew.




















    Three.

    The pavement was uneventful as always. Defunke met me at the marquee.

    SOMETHING IS MISSING _____________________________

    I walked through a story of a dream Defunke had last night, and one puppy eyed pout, for a favor I was to do. The school eventually got closer, and eventually my mind was put to other things.

    Nothing amazing happened at school.

    We found eventually found ourselves at the marquee once again.

    SIGN BROKEN REAL MESSAGE INSIDE

    It was funny for like a second.

    We had breakfast. Nothing is ever more delicious than having breakfast after school. We make the perfect couple, she loves to cook, I love to eat. Defunke is pretty cute when she eats.

    “So yeah what did you think of the fire that happened at school?” Defunke asked. She was eyeing a plate of her signature blueberry waffles, massed with enough toppings to be completely surreal. She placed the leftover blueberries in our cereal.
    “You know, you also happen to say ‘blueberry’ in the most retarded way possible,” She said, almost as if she read my mind as I was thinking about her surreal blueberry pancakes. “You supposed to say “Bloooo Berrii” not “blooo bury”… It kind of sounds like your saying “blubbery”, and my pancakes are nothing such!”
    “Oh sorry, I just like saying it that way… Oh, the fire? I didn’t think it was amazing…” (Blubbery? I just imangined all the toppings on my waffle were a mass of blubber)
    “But I heard people actually died in that fire! If its not amazing than it’s just completely horrifying!” She exclaimed, leaving the blueberry waffles behind her.
    “It still wasn’t amazing…” I said, knowing that I no longer deserved to eat.
    “You’re god awful.” She took my plate away from me, I grabbed one last forkful.

    Four.

    The pavement was uneventful as always. Defunke wasn’t under the marquee. I looked around, and concluded that she wasn’t gonna exist at school today. I wondered about it, and ultimately decided that she’d probably be more productive if she stayed home anyway.

    Nothing amazing happened at school, but there was a moment of silence for those students who died in the fire.

    I found myself at the marquee, realizing I forgot to see what it said this morning.

    RST TURKY ICE COLD BEER

    Wait, what?

    Defunke spent the whole day entertaining herself. The T.V, being as broken as it always has, kept her absolutely no company. I always liked how messy her place was; it always reminded me that some people haven’t yet forgotten how to have fun. I laughed as I walked in.
    “Oops I forgot to lock the door again…” She said, sounding embarrassed. She made herself a hat of today’s paper, one that kept screaming FIRE and MURDEROUS, occasionally conjoining the two, conjuring a MURDEROUS FIRE.
    “You’ve been pretty forgetful lately.” I said, wiping my burnt shoes on a nearby rug.
    “Well I didn’t forget to make you a hat!” She exclaimed with utmost excitement, shoving a Garfield infested hat onto my head.
    I felt pretty.
    “Think fast!” She stated, acknowledging what I obviously didn’t do. The pillow knocked me on my back, and I realized that I should’ve thought faster.
    I was laughing too hard, and eventually instinct came over. Out of reflex, I covered my mouth, worst mistake ever. I had made my move, now it was It’s turn. I froze, I could now hear It’s breathing, getting faster by the second. Double s**t, I turned and retreated under the cover of a couch.


    Five.

    The pavement was uneventful as always. Defunke met me at the marquee. The marquee was currently blank.


    I walked through a story of a dream Defunke had last night, and one puppy eyed pout, for a favor I was to do. The school eventually got closer, and eventually my mind was put to other things.

    Nothing amazing happened at school.

    We found eventually found ourselves at the marquee once again, and we noticed the sign:

    DEUS EX MACHINA

    That was completely unexpected.

    Microwave ramen always burns my tongue, maybe its just a mistake that I’m compelled to make every time it happens to exist. I never really get to enjoy ramen to its full potential. Its just another thing I have left to look forward to.
    Defunke violated her entire kitchen to find herself a pair of chopsticks. She finally did find a pair, and kept to herself a content look while she ate; a look that I haven’t seen her wear in quite awhile.
    It wore off eventually, and somewhere along our conversation we became silenced. Something was on her mind, it was almost obvious, even more so obvious than if she had a sign placed on her saying: ‘Something is on my mind!’ I didn’t feel like telling her, at least not until it started working against her. She has a rough week, and she deserved to earn her delightful Friday. I wonder if she is noticing…



    “Something’s been bugging me,” She said, with a ‘Something is on my mind!’ sign taped conveniently taped on her forehead.
    “Take that silly thing off.” I said, ripping the loose-leaf college ruled lined paper off her forehead. The masking tape was still on her forehead, along with a corner of the paper.

    “Since when was the west wing of our school burnt down?”

    “Give me a second; I have to go to john…” I said, rushing out her front door.




    Six.

    The pavement was uneventful as always. Defunke met me at the marquee. The marquee was currently blank.

    “What should we do today?” She asked me, with enough eagerness in her eyes to blind anyone who happened to be passing by.
    “That wasn’t very nice…” I said, bending over to help someone who collapsed onto the concrete. “Here, flush your eyes with this.” I handed a bottle of water to him, which he took gratefully.



    “I want to show you something.” I said, making a gesture in the direction of her house.
    Her house came into view. I never did care for the color of anyone’s house; they were probably the same color as the two houses right beside it.
    Her room always did have that certain smell. It wasn’t annoying or enjoyable, it was just there.
    Defunke never did have a sense of organization.


    “You see this dent in your wall?” I said, pointing to the obvious dent in her bedroom wall.
    “ Fdim6… Why do hear this chord hanging in the air? Why have I never noticed this scratch on my wall before?”




    I guess have to tell you then.


    Zero.

    The streetlights contrasted brightly onto the pavement, creating shadows onto shadows only to disappear amongst themselves. The moon was actually visible this midnight, me and Defunke had already given up trying to outrun it. Her house came to view, a pale green house, I’ve always wondered why they paint houses in decent colors only every now and then.
    Defunke’s room had a certain aura, one that you wish would never go away. She was there, playing on her old Yamaha guitar, singing aloud to herself without realizing I was even there.
    “Actually, I know your there,” She said, interrupting her own singing to pretend that she could read my mind. Her guitar kept playing. “I can read your mind you know? Hey did you bring your guitar?”
    I made the ‘duh’ gesture.
    “Did you?”
    I looked at the guitar case in my hand.
    “Oh sorry, I was too entranced.” She said, as she stopped strumming. “I want to try something out…”
    “You know we have an essay due tomorro-“
    “You know me right? I don’t believe in school anymore. I just want to street perform my way around the world you know? There’s no point in working toward more work to get the material possessions I don’t want.”
    There was so much confidence radiating off of her, I had no reason to object.
    “Bring your guitar; I’ve always wanted to do this.” She made a notion to me follow her out of the house.


    We came to the church marquee. Ever since childhood we met up here, for it was the exact point in the middle between my house and hers, with the third road leading out of the suburbs. There was always something magical about this marquee, it was one that was considerably high up, and one that the church changed daily for some reason or another.

    NOW OPEN ON SUNDAYS

    With her guitar case at her back, Defunke started climbing up the marquee.
    “Live fast and die young…” I heard her say to herself.
    I climbed on the other side. I couldn’t see the pavement below.
    There we sat, with the world below us, a world without details, a world placed under us. The midnight was a silent sky, one that went infinitely, an infinite audience.
    It wasn’t as comfortable as I hoped it would be.

    She started playing a few simple chords, chords that felt familiar, chords that I soon grasped out of the air. I played along with her.
    I felt compelled to sing. She responded soon afterward.


    .
    .
    .





    A performance so amazing, everything afterward would end up to be anticlimactic…










    At least, that was what I thought. I looked over to Defunke, who was sharing the same feeling of being one with the universe. Eventually, Defunke fell out of her trance, off the marquee, into the abyss, onto the pavement.

    Six.

    The pavement was uneventful as always. I brought Defunke to the marquee. A man was up on a ladder changing the letters.

    “Everyone’s been worried about you… For the past week you’ve had to ask your mom what day it was, your other friends have noticed you’ve been forgetting things, and I haven’t had the heart to tell you what happened that night till today.” I said, taking the remains out of my guitar out of my guitar case.
    “So I have amnesia…How do I know you’re not making this up?” She asked me, waiting for an answer that she already knew I wouldn’t give her.
    “Hm… Well, because it would make a horrible story.” I said, with all jokes about breaking 4th wall aside.
    She started crying.
    “So what now?” She asked, as we walked towards her house.
    “You go to a hospital and get yourself checked I guess…”
    “Too much work.” She said, laughing to herself.
    “Then what?”
    “I’ll go then…” Making a gesture to the guitar she was carrying. “I haven’t been alive yet.”
    “I won’t argue.”
    “I was hoping you would, but I now just realized how much you really did love me.” She said.
    “I guess I really do huh?”
    “I love you too.” She said as she came in for a hug…




    And pinched my boob.

    “Tell my mom ok?” She said, with a confident smile on her face. “But give me a running start first, I don't want her catching up to me!”



    I laughed and watched her walk away. She didn’t look back once.



    Seven.

    The pavement was uneventful as always. No one was there to meet me at the marquee.

    Nothing amazing happened at school.

    I eventually found myself at the marquee. I couldn’t help laughing as it came into view:


    PLEASE DO NOT CLIMB UP THE MARQUEE