Changes

[fredless]

[Someone's standing on her bed again, navigating a mattress and piled blankets to chose a book from the shelf that lines the length of her ceiling.

...then suddenly the book is chosen for her. And it isn't string theory.

Fred scrambles back down to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing over the pages of a journal. Page after page after page. Every last one of them blank. Something presses against her, from the inside out. She moves to the window, briefly glancing outside of it. Everything seems just the same, but she can't seem to fully push back memories of Libet and the auditorium at the heart of it]

Is everybody alright?

[The words seems impossibly dark and large against the blank expanse of the page]

Is everybody...there?

Comments

[fredless]

Lucrezia...

[It's pretty. Fred repeats the name in her head. Somehow, just from the woman's voice she doesn't imagine it being shortened. She doesn't seem like a 'Lucy']

You like to dance? I don't think I've danced since...[When?] prom? And even then it's a stretch to call it dancing.

[heloise]

[ That's a pleasant first. Most people echo her last name. ]

Yes. What is prom? Is it a kind of banquet?

[fredless]

It's a dance, actually. A high school dance.

...which I'm taking you're not overly familiar with.

[heloise]

[ High schooling. She just assumes that Fred is more highly educated than women of her time. ]

Perhaps you could show me how they dance in prom.

[fredless]

[Well, she was studying for her PhD. But that had absolutely nothing to do with prom. There's an awkward pause]

Like I said, it's not really...dancing. More like swaying to the music. If you're lucky, it's even in time swaying.

[heloise]

[ She giggles. ] Swaying could be beautiful too.

[fredless]

[The laugh is infectious]

It could be. But this is high school boys we're talking about. Even my optimism only goes so far...