6. Flow

                                    

                                          


                          
"Griffin, how you been?" 
                          
"I'm alright." His voice sounded gravelly.
                          
"You sleepy?" 
                          
"I've been trying to catch some hours as ya said."
                          
You paused, a little hesitant to ask. "How's your grandpa?"
                          
"He's gotten worse."
                          
"Oh... I'm sorry."
                          
He's quick to move on.
                          
"Hm, how's the city been?"
                          
"Getting pretty advanced, they sure seem like they're rushing it - can't wait until it's over - been one year and a half too long."
                          
Joe's glare was like hot coals on your back.
                          
"I'll talk to you later, Joe's being a dick."
                          
"Wait."
                          
It's sharp, the way his tone changed.
                          
"Do you really have amnesia?"
                          
"What? You think I'm lying?" You chuckled, expecting him to laugh along, but he talked in the same tone.
                          
"Do you have it?"
                          
"Yeah... Why?"
                          
"No reason."
                          
"Okay?"
                          
"See ya."
                          
"Later?"
                          
The phone is snatched out of your hand. 
                          
"Give it back!"
                          
"You'll get it at the end of the day." He twirled his mustache between his sausage fingers.
                          
"Hell no."
                          
"Whose apartment is my name under?" There's a gleam in Joe's leer, and he gave a smug smile.
                          
Your lips screwed shut.
                          
"Good, get back to it."
                          
You went back to your office, your little break over and so was your patience. The office door is bashed against its frame. After all this time, you are still stuck in the same place, with a different coat of paint. Still no trace of your past and even less of a clue of who you were. Searching records of your ability lead nowhere. Your mind wandered over to Griffin. His coldness wasn't anything new, ever since his grandfather got sicker, he's been distant. The last time he wasn't putting his facade was so long ago before he got called over to take care of his grandfather. He is on his last legs.
                          
...
                          
Wearily, your pupils take in the monitor's light for an hour straight.
                          
"Welcome, Miss. Pixel, yes?" You droned out automatically.
                          
"That is me, good afternoon." 
                          
"Good afternoon."
                          
The woman sat down in the chair, her face stiff and eyes a vibrant green. Her posture was as stiff as a plank. Her blonde hair shone under the candlelight.
                          
"I apologize, the reason that I am here is not to summon."
                          
"I don't want to be rude, but why are you here then?"
                          
You played with the candle wax dripping to the plate.
                          
"I am here for you, Spirit of the North." 
                          
"I get that a few times." You try to pass a chuckle at her unwavering gaze.
                          
"It's a wonder how you've never been caught, though I suppose your ability has never been recorded to the fullest."