Tuesday, May 9, 2017

#9 - The Last Supper

Banks hadn’t known her very well. There was that time when they ran into each other face first, but other than that Banks had nothing. The police were saying that Chambly was depressed, but Banks had always seen her surrounded by friends. They said that Sep was suffering from sort of post trauma from finding the body in the park a year ago-- that he had never recovered from the series of events in the past year. Banks didn’t buy it.
She taped up the last box, and marked the box with the address of the art gallery it was going to.
“You’re not actually moving are you?” Michael asked his head poking into the doorway of #308.
“Yeah you can’t leave. I mean look at this place. It’s a perfect art studio.” Timma said from the couch.
“I’m not moving” Banks insisted “I just need a little trip away for the summer. I was thinking Spain or Italy?” Michael responded with a very pointed look at the several boxed around Banks’s living room.
“Spain or Italy? You’ll never want to come home.” Timma held up her hands in defense.
“Okay Michael, like I said before all of the boxes are going to the gallery. Geez you’re almost as bad as Max and Nathaniel. And Timma my offer still stands if you want to come with me…”
Even though Banks hadn’t known Chamby particularly well, the whole situation had been a major wake up. After all that could’ve been her. A night out being sad, walking into the road without looking, and bam that would be the end of that.
“I mean I have all this money from my dad. I need to do something. Have an experience, you know.” they were all quiet for a moment.
“Go live in the trailer park for a week. That’ll be an experience.” and the moment ended and they were all laughing.
“I don’t know, it just feels like something’s ending.” Michael said resting his cheek against the doorframe. Banks reassured him that nothing was ending but the small pang in her chest said something different.

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