Dialogue Concerning the Imminent Apocalypse

colloquy three: weaponless astrophile

Patricia Morris lived in a white neighborhood on G Street, a mere three minutes away from Mama's job. Her rust-colored house sat squished between two other identical brownstones with nothing but iron wrought fences to designate who's property belonged to whom. Louise had only been there once since the two had completed a science project together a few months before, but her feet had memorized the way. With her sweaty hands and thumping heart both acting as compasses, she waited until the sun was once again boisterous in the sky until riding off onto Capitol Hill.

The residential area of Capitol Hill was aesthetic in the way that the city designed each and every building to cater to its tourist-attracting needs. Louise passed oil streetlamps, snow-swathed flowers, and even the Woodies her great uncle had passed away in front of without a glance. Everything dulled in comparison to the idea of meeting with and talking to Patricia Morris. She hated the way her face pulled into a smile at the thought of seeing her again, hated the way her posture straightened and her spirits lifted to an incredible high.

Damn you, Patricia Morris, she thought to herself as she turned onto G Street. Damn you for being so very beautiful.

Patricia's house seemed brighter and less foreboding than any other building on the block. Louise skirted to a stop in front of the inviting brownstone, throwing her legs over the side of her bike. She'd decided to wear pants today in part because she hadn't wanted to bother her mother with nylons but mostly because she wanted Patricia to see she was completely serious about everything she would have to tell her. Coming out with Jump Time and the Ring was proving to be much more difficult than she had expected.

Louise passed the front gate and took the stairs to the front door. She knocked once, twice, three times before hollering, "Is anyone home? It's Louise Johnson! I'm a friend of Patricia's!"

A series of tell-tale noises came from the other side of the door: purposeful stomps, creaking stairs, a delicate voice calling for Paaa-tri-shuuu, more stomps, then finally—the door was yanked inwards to reveal Mrs. Morris in her Saturday morning best. Her face craned around the corner of the door while the rest of her flimsily covered body hid away from the public eye. Her hair was firmly tied down with a multicolored bandana, and the bags underneath her eyes could bring home enough groceries to feed her family for a month.

"I apologize, Louise! We weren't expecting anyone today! Patricia's only just gotten out of bed," the woman explained.

Louise's eyes widened at the thought of inconveniencing Patricia or her family. She immediately gasped and said, "Oh my! Oh my! I should be the one doing the apologizing! I didn't mean to come without any warning, but I don't have your phone number anymore. I just wanted to see if Patricia would like to hang with me and my girls today!"

Hang with me and my girls. Louise was horrified by the words coming from her own mouth. Connie Anne would have laughed hard enough to bring tears to the eyes of everyone around her. Instead, only the Ring grew warmer with Louise's cheeks as Mrs. Morris chuckled nostalgically.

"I remember hanging with the girls, as you put it. Patricia should be here any minute."

"Who's out there, Mommy?" Louise's breathing became erratic at the sound of her voice. She rubbed her hands on her pants, asked the Ring for luck, and watched as Patricia neared her in her own version of her Saturday morning best.

Patricia Morris was either a child of Aphrodite or the goddess herself in an immaculate earthly form. Her hair, unlike Louise's own, wasn't hard and brittle. It distinguished her visage in a fluffy black halo around her smiling face. Her skin held the tawny hue of green tea being graced with sunlight's kiss. And were her eyes beautiful! The color of the soil Earth's very first marvelous plants were birthed in, they captivated Louise like a kaleidoscope of luscious shades of brown she could not ever try to put a name to.