NYC - Necks, Yesterday, Cakes

It took me two days to gather up enough courage to go back and get my backpack which really fucking slowed me the fuck down. I'd wanted to leave in a week, that wasn't possible anymore. Not with the rations I had, or rather: didn't have. In that time I realized how much of an accountant I still was. I was just used to fighting Narts but I wasn't truely brave. 

People can get used to fucking anything. Let's be real: all of us got used to the war. To losing our friends, our family. Of course there were moments when grief seemed to rip your soul apart and when you're whole fucking body longed for rest and safety. Something no one had anymore, at least nobody I knew. But the world constantly changes and always has changed. That's evolution. So I guessed the only fucking way to survive the apocalypse was to get used to it, not fight it or pretend we could go back to the way it used to be. We had to learn to live life the way it was thrown at us. Even if life was throwing Narts and X other mutations into the same drawer as us. My city had been teleported to a whole different world. I had never felt so native to NCY as I did that day.

I never talked to Joline in the two days. I also hadn't seen her, which was kind of funny. I usually saw her at least once a day. We'd known each other ever since I started to rent the apartement eight years ago. But up until after the war we'd never done more than greet each other in the corridor. 

After I'd fetched by backpack I toured the other parts of the city, leaving a wide berth around the store. I found almost nothing. A jar of Mayo and some cake-in-a-can. I found that hillarious and decided to pocket it, maybe I'd give it to Joline. I made up scenarios in my head as I wandered about. Me, ringing at her door holding up the cake and saying; I had to give you cake one too. Or leaving it in front of her door with the note; thanks for the cake. I don't really fucking care if you don't think it's funny, I hadn't seen a comedy or memes in over a fucking year. My humour had taken several blows to the head. Or maybe a kick in the arse. Ha-ha. 

A lingerie store caught my eye. I stopped and stared. I could enter it. Funnily enough it had already been broken into; proof that humans are just motherfucking animals that love to bang. I cautiously entered it, but I knew nothing would surprise me. Or, worst-case scenario, I'd encounter a Nart. 

I took my time to pick something out. I liked the color red. I'd always loved it when girls wore red. Probably because the first girl I'd ever had a crush on had been wearing red when we met. 

I chose a some revealing red lingerie and, just for fun, added a whip to my sex-sortiment. I packed it all into one of the fancy bags with the bow-ties that I find in the cabinets under the counter. I left with a smile on my face. Lingerie and cake-in-a-can, what could Joline want more badly?

I gently placed the gifts in front of her door. Halfway down the stairs I turned back around. I wanted to see her face when she saw them. I ran back up, rang the bell and waited. 

A few moments later she opened the door. She seemed surprised to see me. It took me a second to realize she was crying. Her eyes were tinted red, she smiled a weak smile. I picked up the bag and the can and handed them to her. "I got you something." She took the things, hugging them to her chest. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine, Mack. Thanks for the gifts." She said and stepped backwards. She began to close the door but I put my hand on the door to stop her. 

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm not in the mood to have sex, Mack." 

"I don't want to have sex. I want to know that you're doing alright." 

She eyed me suspiciously. Then she opened the door as wide as it would go and invited me in. I stepped inside. I'd been at her place quite a lot. It was messy, with little trinkets here and there and a shit-ton of cat toys. I wrinkled my nose there was an odd smell hanging in the air. 

Joline put the gifts on the table. Thats when I realized what the smell was. Weed. I raised my eyebrows at her. She smiled, this time a sincere one. "Do you want a hit?" She asked. I didn't know where she'd gotten it from and I never found out. But I obviously said yes and only half an hour later I was lying on her old and soily couch, my head on her lap. I'd only smoked one. I didn't know how many she'd had and didn't want to ask. I was higher than I'd ever been. I was also happier than I'd been in quite a while. Pot had been legalized almost world-wide in 2032. That was pretty much the only date I'd ever remembered from history class. 

"Why are you leaving New York City..." She murmured as she stroked my hair. 

"What?" I asked even though I'd heard exactly what she'd said.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She took another drag of the joint. If the Narts didn't get her, lung cancer would. I closed my eyes. I must have drifted off to sleep because when I woke up down had just broken. I was still lying on her sofa. I rubbed my eyes and stood up. My head felt heavy, but it didn't hurt. I yawned, stretched and got up. Joline was already up, she was in the kitchen. For one second life seemed normal; I'd slept at a woman's house, woken up to her in the kitchen, we'd smoked and talked yesterday. 

I hugged her close to me, must have still been a bit high, and kissed her on the neck. She didn't shrug me off. Quite on the contrary. She crossed her arms across her chest, keeping me from letting her go. She smelled like tobacco and gras. I probably smelled like sweat and the latter. "Do you want some cake for breakfast?" She asked me. 

"Which cake do you mean?" I said, popping a joke just as I'd hoped I would. She laughed and finally shrugged me off. I smiled and helped her prepare a plate.