[HappyHappyHierophant]

-1-

One beautiful night slipped away, with the violent art of a night well spent. No one knew for sure just when it was when one by one they fell asleep one by one trying to uphold the guises of sobriety and claims of an iron liver, but as the 6 a.m. morning bells clattered, each one awoke with their own neural mixologies of numb contentment, soreness, and disgust in their own indulgence.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

A girl with a large tattoo on her back that she had shown a little bit too much of the previous night rolled over and peeled herself off of the carpet, making adjustments to her shirt. She had always regarded the party scene with a little bit of an eye roll and disgust. But, as cliché as it seemed, last night had been the first night she had felt free in a long time.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

Flicking on the switch and pushing brown beer bottles once the willing participants of intoxicating kisses from friends of friends of questionable character, she wiped off the surface of a stool that she hoped was covered by the beer and not the piss of the persons above. Rubbing her temples, all the things that she had to do, tomorrow, in one week, by the end of the interim period; to register, to write, to apply, to beg, to worry, to vex, to wonder, and wonder, and wonder about occurred to her.  

[HappyHappyHierophant]

It seemed these days she was always wondering, and she was being answered less and less. Was this the doomed proto-life of a pre-professional girl? Was she doomed to qualifiers and studying for qualifications? Where did she have left to go before she could finally do what she wanted to anymore? Was there anything that she truly wanted to do anymore, not just a follow-up, taking a recommendation, doing on track to make her so most prepared for some life that she had agreed to not too long ago?

[HappyHappyHierophant]

The enchantment she had once felt about what life would look like ten or five or two years ago was becoming old and less sweet. But she knew that there was still a hope, or a desperation, that it would somehow make more sense later on kept her fixated on the path, whatever path, that was put in front of her.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

And so what? By the morning, she would be back on that path again. She stared at a stack of books she had been supposed to read long ago but had skimmed over for the sake of getting an assignment she knew she could cheat and get better marks than some other round-eyed peer who worshiped professors.

That was cruel, she knew. Some people thrived on the illusions of self-importance and the guided path to enlightenment that academia sold to them. She self-medicated with the cocktail of chemicals and half-baked lackluster romances her friends dragged her into every weekend. For them, it was just filthy fun. For her, it was an inadequate salvation, and the innocent ability to forget everything.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

By the next morning, her somber wisdom was long since pushed to the back of her head as her mind blearily reconciled the day ahead of her through the dull pain behind her eyes. She was sitting on the toilet expelling the alcohol from her system. With one hand she held her head clasping her fingers around her hair at the base at it spilled over towards her lap. With the other she ran her hand over the lines of her tattoo, missing the tender, raised skin of when she had first gotten it – young, passionate. She often wondered where that passion had gone and whether it was gracing some other new girl with the grace and beauty and glow of people who still just glided through life. For her, she had landed. It had not been abrupt nor painful. In fact, what had always been the most crippling to her was to feel that part of her back and realize that her wings, that passion and youth, was no longer there.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

She realized more and more often she was in some awful period between having energy and wisdom, where thoughtless passion gave way to passionless thought. And there was nothing she could do about it, could she? Worst, her one option was to wait. Wait for a stimuli, something that would rejuvenate or destroy, but most importantly – redefine her.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

- 2 -

At exactly 7:00 p.m., she untied her hair. Tresses of reddish brunette dropped and bounced around her shoulders. This was one of the little things she loved about her routine. Work ended at 5:00, but she often ended up having to stay a little less than an hour late. The train never came on time, nor did it arrive so. But regardless of when and in what state of mind the door clicked shut behind her, she always found herself turning to the clock at exactly 7:00 p.m., just as, with one swift movement, she untied her hair.

As regular as this was, this was one of the few moments she truly felt like she was in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

* * *

Pink and blue lights flashed overhead, and she felt the safe temptation to glance into each one of them. Like the sun, she thought.  She squinted at each one. Pink lights burned blue and blue lights burned pink over her vision. She glanced over, the bar now filled with pulsating purple dots, over to her left.

Hector glided over, appropriately inappropriately, giving her playful scowl before a friendly hug over the shoulder.

"I swear," tapping her fingernails on the bar. "After your rap sheet, you're not even a little embarrassed to be here?"

"The bartender behind them squinted at Hector, before crossing his arms and quickly walking through a backroom door. "I should probably keep better friends, huh?"

"Why should I?" he said, a little too loud. "Be present, right? I'm not the kind of person to be embarrassed about anything."

[HappyHappyHierophant]

* * *

Silhouetted against moonlight and streetlight, they seemed to float through the humid air, hooked together. Hector pointed towards a glass door where an "Open" sign sat patiently. With strides of four legs, they pulled themselves through the doorway and past the judgmental look of a single tired looking man in a paper hat behind the counter.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

"A booth!" Hector called out, folding himself and falling backwards into a wet spot. "Oh," he said, curling his ruddy face inwards to sniff the cuffs of his shirt.

"You are embarrassing," she laughed, even as she stumbled herself, shoving her face deep into the shiny red pleather. She pulled a finger over the seat, feeling the subtle fragmenting and cracks where the material was drying and crumbling. They lay there, legs hanging over the ends, blinking upwards at a burning reddish white curls shielded, oblivious, in glass cages of the diner lights.

Fans buzzed over-head. "I have something," Hector said, rummaging in his coat pocket.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

* * *

She was sobering up quickly with a meal. "Hector, I don't know. It's not really my scene. Besides you've already gotten in trouble for this." She pushed a small slip with a white rabbit back towards him. "Several times."

"I guarantee you, my interest is purely academic." He stifled a laugh as she rolled her eyes and looked behind her.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

"This experience; it is unreal. I am telling you, before I tried this, I had no idea that time is an illusion. We use it, -- no, we don't use it. We're sitting here, complacent in knowing that our minds have stopped merely by perceiving the third dimension because it's easy to manage just one particle of time at a time. It's convenient. But we're four dimensional organisms. We're constantly readjusting ourselves inside four-dimensional space."

He swept in to grab the last fry.

[HappyHappyHierophant]

The man behind the counter sat, wiping the grease from his fingertips and staring complacently at a television screen so filled with colored noise he couldn't possibly be actually watching it. Besides pausing to do three chews in his left cheek, then, three chews in his right cheek, all motion seems to drain from him as he lost himself calmly processing his own easy, menial, digestible thoughts.