"Do you still have those dream Clara?" The psychologist or therapist? The shrink, said leaning on her chair, pencil at hand and her clipboard leaning on her raised thigh. The ex-Special Ops ran her tongue over the surface of her teeth, ears twitching at the clicking of the clock that was mounted on the wall behind her.
"It's been five years." She said frowning at the question. Clara ran her right thumb over her left, something she did when she began to feel anxious.
"Just because it has been five years doesn't mean it still doesn't affect you. It was a very impactful day, you suffered many losses." She didn't have to say it, Clara knew, she had been there, it happened to her.
"Clara." The lady sitting in front of her said. Clara heard the scratching sound indicating that the woman was writing something down.
"Someone tried to commit suicide in front of me the day before yesterday." Clara said, changing the subject.
"Oh?" Clara nodded quietly. "What did you do?" Asked the psychiatrist, the sound of scratching on paper continued. She swayed Clara's response, curiosity piqued.
"I asked him to sit down next to me and talk." She said shrugging. "He seemed to have had enough of life." Clara stated picking at her nails. She heard the woman stop writing and felt a pair of eyes latch on to her face.
"What did you say to him?"
Clara kept quiet for a little while. "I told him to honor those before him by living a long life that would make them proud. Said he still had someone to live for."
"Very nice." The lady said with a smile. They heard a small ping, indicating that the time was up, and Clara stood up. "Alright, take care of yourself Clara. Remember next month." Clara nodded and made her way towards the door.
Clara paused the door midway and turned her head back to the room.
"I still have those dreams, sometimes."
She then closed the door and was led out by the receptionist.
.•.
After the conversation with that young woman Godric was left with a need to find her once more. He spent the next night searching through the hotel. Godric has even politely asked, glamoured, the front desk receptionist to know which room this mystery woman resided in. It turned out there was no one with the description he provided currently staying in the hotel. She wasn't even a worker.
What was she doing on the roof then?
Eric was leaving today and had insisted for Godric to come with. Godric has been silent before he gave his answer. He's was not Sheriff anymore, there was no need to stay in Dalla. Eric had smiled, like a child who had been handed a cookie jar and told him that they were leaving in an hour. Godric sighted, alone in his room, he feared that their might of not another chance to see the girl.
He headed out, his belongings at hand, and met with his progeny downstairs.
.•.
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Clara was driven back to her apartment complex in Le Rivage, Shreveport Louisiana. The ride was quiet except for the soft hum of the radio. It was a Christian song, very modern pop and catchy. "How was the family issue in Dallas? Did everything end well?" The driver asked.
Clara shrugged. "I don't know if everything is okay now. I guess I'll find out soon enough." She told the driver as her face shifted towards the window. The driver hummed and parked the car in front of the building. She heard the driver open the door and felt the shift in the car as he got out. She grabbed her bag as he opened her door helping her out.
"Would you like me to walk you to the elevator?" He asked her.
"Please." Her looped their arms together and started walking her inside. "Watch your step here." He told her.
She smiled at him as they reached the elevator and he pushed the button for her floor. "Thank you, Adam."
"You know it's no problem, be careful." He said, a smile in his voice, as the elevator doors closed.
She heard the gears of the elevator squeal into a stop, indicating she had reached her floor. She stepped outside. Clara placed her hand on the wall and walked all the way to the end of the hall, reaching her door. She felt her keys for the right one and found the door knob with her left hand. She opened the door and walked inside, locking it.
She was greeted with exited meowing and she bent down to pick her cat, Penpen, up. The cat was a Siamese, with slightly longer hair, indicator that she wasn't a purebred. Clara scratched the cats head. "Hey baby girl, hungry?" She asked the feline only to be met with meowing. Clara smiled setting the cat down and walked to the kitchen. Her hands trailed the countertop before they touched a container, she picked it by the handle and shook it slightly before turning around. "Is this it?" She asked, the 'mrow' that followed was all the confirmation she needed and the bent down, pouring it in her bowl. Clara places it back on the counter, on the exact same spot it was previously.
Clara grabbed herself a glass of pre-made lemonade, placing the tip of her index inside to make sure she wouldn't pass her marker. She plopped a couple of ice cubes inside and walked towards her living room, settling down on her fluffy chair. She reached for the stand in front of her, grabbing the book she had started a week prior, and curled in her chair, her finger tips trailing across the pages.
She sat there for a while, her lemonade sat forgotten on the stand in front of her. Penpen leaped into her lap and Clara smiled closing her book. Penpen had been with her for the last five years, helping Clara walk her new path in life. The cat was a certified service animal, Clara always takes her out Hoth her when she left the home, unless she was going to her appointment.
It was nighttime, the line was long, everyone was wearing something of leather in them, dark grunge style to fit in. There was a woman, she was the bouncer. The place was called Fangtasia. "Go right in." The scene blurred. She was inside, it was packed. She sat in one of those couches, they felt a bit stiff to her, Penpen sat on her lap pawing at her chest. She felt a whisper in her ear, she smiled.
Clara blinked and brought the previously ignored glass of lemonade up to her lips, she swallowed the whole thing and sighted "Oh Pens, do you feel up to walking me into a club." The cat meowed.
