Last Signs Of Life (Nick X Ellis)

Coping mechanism

The morning light stung their skin as they woke, reluctant to stir the air they had been breathing. Ellis moved first, rolling over to face the other, whose eyes were already on him. "Ey Nick" he said, and the man nodded in recognition.

Their feet did not want to touch the floor, because they knew they would be swallowed by a lack of purpose as deep as the ocean. The hopelessness that settled in their idle minds made the next days a black hole in their minds. What were they to do while they waited to die? Emotions and logic were numb now, and minds coated in this hopelessness.

Nick pushed the dresser to the side, leaving to the hallway to go to the vending machines. His return was not met with a greeting, the doorway blocked and crumpling plastic sounds filling the air as he dumped the junk food on the bed.

They stuffed their faces in silence, as if keeping their mouths busy would keep their minds idle. That wasn't true, and they realized that after about 30 minutes.

"Tell a story" Nick said, sounding dead and monotone.

Ellis sighed, though remained silent. He had no stories to tell.

"You know" nick said, sitting forward and running a hand along his scruffy jaw. "I never told you about my ex wife"

Had ellis been a dog, his ears would've perked, and he seemed curious, as if his mind were off of the dire situation for now.

"When I told her I was gonna divorce her, she threw an iron at me. Couldn't even wait till I turned my back" nick shook his head with a low chuckle while the redneck laughed. "Are you fer serious?" The man laughed. Nick nodded, his lips parting in a grin. "I still have a triangle burn scar across my chest, swear it"

Ellis shook his head. "Shit man... Shit shit shit"

It was hours then, of stories, some real and some fake. It didn't matter. As long as the lips kept moving and the minds stayed busy. They stayed happy, and they talked the day away. Nick spoke of his boss, his time in prison, his exes, his job. Ellis talked about his mama, keith, cars, and misadventures. Anything from their memories to keep them occupied.

Nick stood up after a while, still chuckling as he headed for the small table in the corner of the room. "I didn't notice this before..." He said, sliding away the top panel and retrieving the cheap tequila from the inside. "Its a fucking mini bar" he sounded almost disbelieving, experienced hands opening the bottle.
It was numbing, just like the words, and the bottle passed between them with their stories. The alcohol burned their chests and throats with the fire of life that had been taken from them, liquid courage sparking in their stomachs. It was midday now, and they were counting the tiles in the bathroom, bottle settled on the counter.

"I got 56" said Ellis, a proud look on his face.

"62" the conman corrected.