Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

8. New York, You're Gaining On Me.

A/N- So this is an absolute mess, let's blame my fevered mind for this 😂Enjoy!! X

H.G.
NYC, USA
July.

I had been staring at the wall for the best part of an hour, and had no intention of finding another activity to entertain myself with.

I knew I led a boring life, but my wall staring habit seems overkill, even for me. This riveting pastime has helped distract me for a couple of years now. Said walls in my living room were pained a shade named 'Agreeable Grey'. A lovely, sensible colour. Over the years, a small scratch in the paint appeared, so I sought to touch it up. 'Agreeable Grey' was nowhere to be bloody found so I tried to match it as best I could with another brand of an identical colour, 'Revere Pewter'. So, I painted over the scratch with my new paint, thinking everything would be fine and dandy.

The colours didn't match, and the fact peeves me. All I wanted, was for the paint, to be the same as the rest of the wall, to blend in. Is that too much too  ask?

Yes, I realise that was most likely the most boring passage you have ever read. Who could possibly opt to read a book about the various shades of grey? But this is me. Agreeable Grey, through and through, so you're going to have to bear it.

I took a large gulp of a particularly smooth whiskey, and let my mind go as blank as the space I stared at. Maybe I could find that shade in a different state, perhaps Pennsylvania.

'When I was young, I never needed anyone, and making love was just for fun. Those days are gone.'

"Oh for the love of God." I grumbled to myself, and slowly got to my feet. The radio had also been playing loudly, so that I could really keep my mind empty.

'Living alone, I think of all the friends I've known. But when I dial the telephone, nobody's home.'

They play such rubbish on the wireless these days. 'All by my-' I quickly twisted the dial, in order to find another station. I glanced down at my empty glass with even more annoyance. As a new tune went off, I trudged towards the kitchen.

'You're gonna be nowhere. The loneliest kind of lonely. It may be rough going, just to do your thing's the hardest thing to do...'

Even worse.

I snatched the entire bottle of whiskey up and walked as quickly as possible towards the living room once again. My sheepskin slippers shuffled across the tiles, before scratching on the carmine shaded carpet as I switched rooms.

'But you gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song-'

Another sharp twist to change the station.

'And the rich-relationed hometown queen, marries into what she needs. With a guarantee of company and haven for the elderly.'

At that I switched the radio off, and decided to go with a standard, objectively 'good' album of music. I flipped the 'Abbey Road' vinyl over so that the B side would play on my record player. I was content that I couldn't find too much fault with any of the songs, lest I be strangled by a fanatic. Just as I was adjusting the needle, the door rattled with a series of urgent knocks.

Out of a small fright, my hand clumsy knocked the needle forward as the record spun. A screech ensured before I turned to the door, which was being furiously knocked on again.

'And in the middle of investigation, I break down.'

"Who is it?" I grunted, making the short trek down the hallway to the heavy door.