A Consummate Revelation
I'm so repetitive in my love for the Gorn, even her unfinished stuff has moments of brilliance.
Anyway speaking of repetitive, you'll have to forgive me since I'm a bit late in the game and I'm sure this fic has been mentioned given the interest it garnered.
Let's just call it an angst classic. Once again, apologies for being repetitive.
For a half an hour she remained motionless on the sofa, waiting. Around her the sounds of life were nearly deafening. The steady hum of the fish tank’s aerator. The sounds of the traffic in the street below. The click of the clock as the minutes ticked past.
Nothing. No whispers. Nothing at all but the beating of her own heart.
Maybe it had been the stress. Or maybe she really had been going crazy to think Clark had ever spoken to her across the cosmos. She didn’t know or really care.
She only knew that she finally had to accept that whatever it had been, it had stopped. She couldn’t hear him anymore, and he couldn’t hear her.
Silent tears flowed down her cheeks as she fed the fish and double checked the locks. She no longer sobbed. Being loud in her misery didn’t lessen the pain at all, she’d learned after suffering days of aching ribs and near laryngitis.
The sleeping pills were starting to work their magic, her head growing thick and heavy. She trudged back to the bedroom, wading through the clothes littering the floor. She’d forgotten to stop at the dry cleaners yet again. Which meant she had nothing to wear to work the next day. With a withering glance at the maroon suit draped over the chair, she sighed. She’d already worn it once that week because it was the least wrinkled thing in her closet. It would have to do again. No one would dare remark about it. Even if they did, she didn’t care.
Without bothering to brush her teeth, she dropped into bed, wincing at the bunched blankets and linens underneath her. Maybe she’d actually make it in the morning, the way she used to. Maybe not.
