Famous musician, Cory Hartley, has plans to end his own life. When rekindling an old flame that never died, Cory finds himself at a crossroads, as he copes with the traumatic death of his best friend. Forced to face the past that's haunted him for a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-§§§-
The feelings that should've been nostalgic were overshadowed by the eerie sense of dèjá vu as Cory took a seat inside the old diner.
His eyes gazed around the room in unsettling wonder, amazed by how little it had changed since the last time he'd been there.
The off-white wallpaper was beginning to fade a yellow hue—the deep olive green board and batten at the bottom half of the walls managed to remain intact after all these years.
Cory thought back to the times he'd been there before—sitting with old friends after school.
Their circle became smaller throughout the years; Aidan and Cameron more involved with Varsity instead of playing music in his Aunt Gemma's garage.
Before long, it was only Alida and Cory.
Cory could never forget the thrill of it all, when Aidan had gone off to college; when he and Alida no longer had to sneak around.
He could hold her hand without the worry of running into Aidan on the street; they could eat at Butch's Diner next to the window without the table cluttered with textbooks; they didn't need an alternate reason to be out alone together.
Now Cory sat in Butch's Diner with Alida and her young daughter. Only this time, he was an outsider, being let in to observe a life he could've had—a life he wished he'd had the courage to fight for.
"I'm gonna go to the restroom, you mind ordering for me?" Cory asked, standing from the seat.
Alida nodded. "Same as usual?"
"Same as always." Cory tipped his head, only asking her to order for him because he didn't care what was ordered.
Cory breathed a sigh of relief upon entering the men's room. He went into the large stall, pushing over the lock. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the half empty nip for a drink.
He felt remorse for having to take a sip, but he wasn't breaking any of Alida's rules—Cory wasn't drunk—despite wanting to be.
Cory questioned what the hell he was doing back here. The plan was failing—he was supposed to make his confession; he was supposed to plea forgiveness and then end it all—that was the plan.
Instead, Cory was crashing on her couch, getting to know her daughter and having a panic attack on highway I-84. He was playing house and getting comfortable with the sick idea that he could ride his welcome out.
Cory closed his eyes, head butting the stall door—over and over.
He turned on his phone, remembering that he had turned it off sometime after arriving to Fallsburg. He had been parked in Alida's driveway when he did it—determined to stick to the plan.
