Counterfeit Movement

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Alli walked down the street; sweltering evening heat radiated off every surface. Steam rose from the underbelly of the city. The sun was a bright light at the bottom of a canyon of skyscrapers, a candle waiting to be extinguished.

Wiping the sweat off the back of her neck, Alli stopped in Nate’s Papaya Dogs. The yellow and white signage greeted the disinterested, chewing silently, staring, eyes focused on unknown points, and hunched over the mica table top counters.

The heat from the streets pressed in on her temples. Despite this, she ordered a tiny, white china cup of espresso. The beverage came back lukewarm and milk had been added to it. Alli sipped distastefully but drank the rest of the concoction.

Nealy clambered up on to the spinning black seat beside her. The waiter wordlessly brought the latecomer a Reuben, with A Thousand Island Dressing, and some fries. “Do you know that they hose out this place at 3 AM?” Nealy asked.

“No, I didn’t know that,” Alli said, eying her cup, and wishing it were not empty.

Her friend made a swift gesture in Alli’s direction, and the waiter appeared again, this time, with a new cup of espresso. This one was hot; Alli savored the taste of the ground beans. Fresh Arabica coffee, probably sourced in bulk, from Borneo.

“Thank you,” Alli said, “I see you like to come here often.”

The sun reflected off the aviator sunglasses perched on Nealy’s head, “Order the omelets and flapjacks.”

“But it’s Nate’s Papaya Hotdogs…” Alli said.

“Just do it.”

Alli ordered the food, and the same waiter brought the breakfast out in under five minutes. The omelet was whipped up fresh: American cheese, little cubes of pink ham; the flapjacks, thin and easy to tear, soft and light.

“How did you know that they could do this?” Alli exclaimed.

“I pass through here on my way home, from work, late at night, usually at 2:30 AM,” Nealy said, “I’m here when they start throwing the last customers out.”

Alli ate silently for a few minutes. The sun’s rays filtered through the diner, touching wrinkles and folds in the diners’ faces, and a hundred crumbs lying on the black and white, checkered floor. Hundreds of feet had worn down the tiles, leaving thousands of soft lines and scuff marks.

Alli used the flaky pancakes to mop up the savory cheese sauce from the omelets. “I will be right back,” Nealy said. She stepped outside, and lit a cigarette, in the waning, orange light, snaking down the buildings.

Alli cut the omelet slowly and watched the fry cook in the back hustle around an unseen grill. She could imagine the perspiration bursting from his pores, dampening the white apron, unknowingly running off a contorted brow into the cascade of grease popping on the stove.

Nealy returned, mopping her forehead. That afternoon, it had been a hundred degrees in Central Park, a flat, baked, green postcard in the middle of New York City.

“Do you want to come with me to Shanghai?” Nealy asked.

Alli put down her napkin, “When?”

“Two months from now.”

The espresso cup was empty again, “How? Why?”

“Don’t ask why,” Nealy said, “Just say yes.”

The waiter appeared out of the din and haze, on the other side of the counter, and refilled the espresso. “A cappuccino also, please,” Alli said, wiping her face.

“It’s for the venture capital firm,” Nealy continued, “but I do not want to go alone. We can eat shark fin soup and fugu, flown in from Japan.”

“How can you say that?” Alli asked, looking away. She downed the third espresso, in one go. Dallas had left, just one month ago.

counterfeit movement

Songs:

1)コンシャスTHOUGHTS:

True Love

あなた

空バウンド (based on “The Glow of Love,” by Luther Vandross)

NEED  U

2) Vanilla:

Rise

Forgettin’ (based on “I Keep Forgettin’ (Every Time You’re Near)” by Michael McDonald, of the Doobie Brothers)

3) GreyscaleSound – Still You and I// (based on “Nothing Can Come Between Us” by Sade)

4) 豊平区民TOYOHIRAKUMIN – 夕暮れsunset

 

Related: All-Night Dive

Spirit Science

night

The wind began to blow, twisting little eddies of snow. Bern walked across the clearing in snowshoes, headed for the treeline. The night was empty; there was a full moon.

Bern’s cabin materialized out of the darkness between the tree branches. Red curtains, lit from within. On the porch, Bern took off the snowshoes and knocked them together over the shrubs nearby. Unlocking the door, Bern stepped inside.

The embers of a fire crackled in the potbelly stove. Bern fed the fire and used a brand to light the fireplace. She took off her boots, hat and coat, and let them dry in front of the flames.

The fire faltered and Bern felt a chill. She looked around, and saw that the window was open. Snow dusted that corner of the carpet. “I don’t remember opening that, but then again, maybe I did,” Bern thought.

Bern put the kettle down and went to the window. A sharp prickle spiked across the back of her neck: a woman was standing there.

A yard from the window, a woman of no more than 30, in snow pants and a white winter coat, with a fur-rimmed hood, peered at Bern. “I’m sorry to scare you,” she said, “My name is Jerri.”

Blood continued to pound in Bern’s ears, “Are you lost?”

“I seem to have taken a wrong turn too many,” she laughed.

“Well, come in, you’re not going to make it to wherever you are going in this cold.” Bern said, heart still clattering along. It was the hospitable thing to do.

“That’s kind of you,” she said, “I came down off the foothills and lost my map in the wind. It’s been a pretty bad trip, to say the least.”

Bern went around to the front door, and the woman followed, “These woods are like a maze. Many people have gotten injured out here,” Bern said, “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Jerri came to the door, as Bern unlocked it, “I’ve sprained my ankle out here before. Thankfully, I had a homing beacon,” she said, “I don’t have it tonight.”

“That must be terrifying for you,” Bern responded.

Bern gestured for her to take a seat by the fire. Once she sat on the hearth-rug, Bern put one of the blankets from the bunk bed around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said.

Jerri’s pack, which was heavy, was placed by the door. Bern resumed making chamomile tea, this time for two.

When the tea had finished steeping, Bern joined her with two mugs on the rug.

“Why are you out here?” Jerri asked.

“To take in the sights,” Bern said, “But really, to get over my ex.”

“What a remote place to do it!” Jerri exclaimed.

“Yes, I bought this cabin not long after college. I was in the outing club, so it was only natural.”

“That’s nice,” Jerri said, genuinely interested.

The log crackled and sunk. Tomorrow, Bern would chop more wood to put in the shed behind the cabin.

“Why are you out here?” Bern wondered.

Jerri smiled shyly, “You wouldn’t believe what I found.”

Confused, but comfortable by the fire, Bern said, “Try me.”

Jerri set her mug down and jumped up with a speed that amazed Bern. She crossed the cabin floor and opened her pack. Opening some sort of case inside, she pulled out a large slab of dark red meat, still trailing lines of fat. Bern recoiled instinctively.

“Out here, is the best meat I can find!” Jerri exclaimed. It was then that Bern noticed her teeth were a little bit longer than normal.

mad trapping

Songs
Underoath, “Returning Empty Handed”
SEITHEN – PO$$E (Intro) 
$OUDIERE – HORROR