twenty-eight.

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MAY, 1988, SEATTLE, WA

                LINDY WAS TIRED. There was no other way to describe how she felt, even when 'tired' felt like such a cop-out word. She was so tired that even when she slept and her eyelids were shut to the world, she still felt the exhaustion seeping into her bones and breaking her down bit by bit, an ever-present downer when she was doing her best to stay productive.

Her first year of college had wrapped, and she'd completed the milestone with grades that awarded her with a place on the Dean's List. Within a year, she'd be applying to the nursing college at UW and would be one step closer to fulfilling every dream of the past nineteen years.

What really burdened Lindy was her job; Kurt had certainly been right in saying that it would be a lot considering the pressure she had already been under. Lindy had accepted a job waitressing at a restaurant close to campus that sold bar food and cheap beer. She'd been working nonstop, sometimes pushing forty hours in a week, which was saying a lot when she had a mass of homework to do as well.

On the brighter side, she'd saved enough money to purchase her very first car, a nineteen-eighty-one Honda that the owner had sold to her for a bargain price of two-hundred-and-fifty dollars. She'd been unable to believe it at first, but found the price to be reasonable upon discovering the car's mileage and rather poor upkeep. Trae had already made several visits to Seattle to work on the thing, shaking his head at his sister when he'd peeked inside to take in the car's interior. 

The other portion of money that she'd made had gone into savings, hidden away so that in the coming months Lindy would be able to rent an apartment near school. She'd done everything that she could to ensure that she'd be ready for the commitment, from prioritizing her credit (she hadn't known what credit actually was at first) and apartment hunting.

Meanwhile, Kurt had been entirely devoted to Nirvana, driving all over in order to make gigs and play for anyone who wanted to hear. It was in those times that Lindy felt most alone, missing him even when he was gone for even only a night. She would chew away at her bottom lip, trying to wonder how she'd handle him being away on a different continent if he ever ended up touring someday.

The week after classes ended, Lindy was working a late shift, rolling silverware for the coming day as the time dragged on. No one was in the restaurant except for her, two other servers and their manager. The only sound was "Hungry Eyes" by Eric Carmen playing over the restaurant speakers.

The bell that hung over the restaurant door clanged, signaling that someone had walked in. Lindy, who was sitting in a nearby booth, stood with a twitch of irritation. It was nearly eleven at night. Did someone really have the indecency to expect to be served fifteen minutes to close?

"How can I help —," Lindy began, rounding the corner with her hands tucked into the pockets of her waitstaff apron. She stopped immediately when she saw who was standing there.

"Kurt!" she cried, closing the distance between them and throwing her arms around him with happiness.

"Hi," he said breathlessly, sounding like he'd ran all the way to the restaurant.

"God, I thought you were a customer. I was about to lose my mind."

"Nope, not a customer tonight."

"Come over here and sit, I'm just finishing rolling silver and I'll be done. Do you want something to eat before the kitchen shuts down?"

Kurt's features pinched as if the question physically pained him. Lindy could guess why. His stomach had been hurting again, preventing him from being able to enjoy the foods he had once ate without a second thought.

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now