The rain is pouring down the glass and I'm standing there looking sideways, seeing if the caustics will play over his skin. It might not be dark enough or bright enough or causticky enough and he catches me staring and mistakes it for an intent to begin some epic, deep conversation beyond the usual gamut of weather/children/future/fight.
It's interesting how we've come full-circle isn't it?
But we haven't. We're on a track that extends straight into the horizon. On a runaway train. And there's a bridge but it's out so I'm sure we're headed to our abrupt demise.
Bridget. You watch too many movies.
It's a relevant comparison. Running from things. Punches first, explanations later. Doing jobs. Being too fast.
Who are you running from?
Ghosts. The past. You. I don't know.
Will that even change?
Depends.
How can I make things different?
Bring them back.
Bridget-
I know. I know money can't do fuck all. I know that. I get it.
He didn't respond. He resumed his stare out into the rain.
It's going to rain all day, isn't it, Caleb?
Yeah, Bridget. I think it probably will.
