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Friday morning, feeling a hell of a lot better for a couple real important reasons, Spike takes two jumpropes and two water bottles and heads out to the lake to wait for Elaine. It's a nice day: the sun or whatever passes for it is shining, the grass is growing, it's not soggy, there are flowers starting to show up regularly.

There are no birds, though.

A stunning absence of birds.

That's one of the things that makes this place so surreal, he thinks, but he slings the jumpropes over his shoulder and finds a nice spot half in the sun, half in the shade, and starts stretching.

It feels good.

(no subject)

It's better. Things are better. The inevitability of time passing, however it does here, means that things move on.

After Elaine's Jeet Kune Do lesson, Spike heads back to the room.

He spies his jacket sitting on the back of the chair, right where he left it. The letter from Joe is in the pocket; he takes it out and sets it on the bureau right next to Joe's will. Then he takes his gun out of the pocket and disassembles it.

Time to clean it up real good. And so he does: sits on the bed and takes the pieces of the Jericho and makes sure he has what he needs: lubricant, cleaning cloths, all that shit. It's a good task because it keeps him occupied without letting a million stray thoughts float around his head. This is something he can concentrate on and not worry about most of the rest of the shit that invades his brain most hours of the day.

The one thought not gun-related that enters and he's in no rush to get rid of is an image of Beth, eyes sparkling, hair shining, a smile on her lips. He likes that image. He keeps it with him always.