La Fée Verte Part 1

Her fingertips tingled, the gentle vibration undulating through the neck. Opening her eyes, Zoey could see the soft white light of the lamposts quivering in the inky blackness. Turning her head to one side, she could see the digital clock on her Microwave shining in a reflection on her solarium doors. 10:30. She grumbled and smoothed the hem of her dress. “So tired of working so late.” She hissed. “It’d be nice to get home and comfy at a reasonable hour for once.” 

“I really wish she’d have been by sooner.” She whispered, slipping the pick into a slot on the back of her Bass. Zoey carried her instrument into the kitchen. She rubbed her neck with one hand, lolling her head from side to side. 

Wandering into the living room, she felt a chill wash over her. Looking at the walls and bookshelves, Zoey felt the familiar stabbing. The walls had slight discoloration, symmetrical shapes blaring into the room like inverted shadows. 

Cringing, she stepped towards the door to the flat. Zoey leaned against the door staring into the dim courtyard and walkway. Her knees buckling as she caught flickers of backyard barbecues, and the birdfeeders the two had hung in the Red Cedars. “Stupid…”

Turning round, Zoey reached for her bass, then sighed and moved back into the flat. Stepping into the kitchen, she reached into her cupboard and pulled out a small mug. Walking to the electric kettle, she paused, looking at the mug and turning it round in her hands. 

An emblem came into view, some mid century design with a stylized cat. “Catmosphere?” She remembered visiting the establishment with…

Shaking her head, she flicked the kettle on and returned to the cabinet. Setting the original mug on the counter, she selected a simple blue mug before returning to the kettle. The water therein was beginning to boil.

Groaning, Zoey wandered through the kitchen, pausing briefly by her pantry door. Opening it, she took stock. Her snacks were still on the shelf, haphazard. It took every ounce of self control not to grab a pack and ask the void if they wanted their biscuits.

Shaking her head, she looked at her feet and took a breath. She willed her shoulders to release, flexing her toes to work out the knots in her feet. She was about to close the door, when a curious small flask like bottle caught her eye. It was green, slender, a thick but faded label was on one side. ‘La fée verte.' 

She snatched it up and popped the lid off. There wasn’t much left, barely a shot. Shrugging, she carried it back to her kettle and poured the remainder into her blue mug, before fetching a decaffeinated bag of tea. 

She filled the mug’s basin, and walked back to her living room, discarding the now empty bottle in the trash. 

She considered her options; television? Scrolling social media? Reading a book? After a few sips, her body felt heavy. Each movement began to feel like she was wading through sand. By the time she finished her mixed concoction, all she could do was curl over and pour herself into the corner of her couch.