caroline
partial scene study
It was the green leaves of the morning glories that brought him to her attention.
On any normal day she’d have never been outside at this time, let alone awake. If she weren’t so heartbroken, the sound of the birds, the muted watercolor of the sunrise, the secrecy of the predawn would have gone unnoticed. But through the rigid bamboo slats of her fence, the flowers dared bloom in all their elegance. How ugly and beautiful a root could continue finding the sun despite a barrier – but it did.
That dreamless night found her awake with the vines hungry for a dawn wet without light. All through July she’d watched orphaned leaves chase each other in circles through the alley. And that day was undoubtedly a day unlike any other. The summer sun rose one marigold after the next.
Day after day, she found solace in the cool dark of the bar, but she never found what she really sought: anonymity. For that, she’d need to put the keys in the ignition and try to leave this place, but that’s something she could never do. Instead she peels back one layer of humility after another – I’ll take one more. I’ll take one more. One more then I’ll close. One more then I’ll close. This is the last.
I promise.
This bar had always been paneled in the warm wood of her dreams. On that night, she asked the bartender for one more. He’d been talking to someone down the bar and glanced sidelong at her. He moved in a way that made her feel more like a character and suddenly everything was flat like a set. She said her lines in the way she hoped was most satisfactory.
If her fate hadn’t been written already, hadn’t been scratched on the face of the moon, this extra round may never have mattered. But the fact was that the shift had changed at the bar, and the person making the drink mattered. He mattered very much.