In the aftermath of Eve’s death, Adam is left rudderless. He had only led one kind of life for the past 600 years. What was he supposed to do now? When he tries haunting one of his usual spots for an anchor, he finds Lilith.
(A sort of epilogue after “Only Lovers Left Alive,” but can also be read as, “Adam Finally Gets Therapy.”)
chapter 1: last words of a shooting star
They’ll never know how I stared in the dark in that room, with no thoughts, like a blood-sniffing shark. And while my dreams make music in the night, carefully—I was going to live.
—
Adam sat alone at a table nearest the door of the last place he’d been with Eve before it all went south. Before, being the operative word, as he maintained it had gone south the minute Eve’s little sister Ava had arrived in Detroit. Though, he had no one to argue with about that at the moment. Ian was long dead and Ava was most likely sucking some other poor starry-eyed bastard dry, on someone else’s vintage sofa. He almost chuckled to himself imagining some 20-something zombies losing their precious little minds over what to do with the body, probably having no secret acid pits to dump it and no foresight to have worn gloves. He bittersweetly took a swig from the flask he kept hidden in his jacket pocket. Regrettably, the good stuff was locked in a safe at home and the only other type he had was A-positive. A little challenging to his palette, admittedly, but not too terrible. It reminded him of a delicately aged pinot noir, with less fruity undertones and more of a floral, earthy flavor. Definitely not his favorite, but again, not terrible. He was slowly slumping over the table and further into his depression as another dismal amateur took the stage in the club’s open-mic night. Though, this bird was interesting. She shrugged a violin case off her shoulder and timidly took the stage behind the microphone. For some reason, more patrons accumulated and tried to fight each other to crowd the stage. A bouncer had to push the crowd back, giving the young woman on stage a bit of relief.
Хващаш ме всяка вечер, а на сутринта ме пускаш. Оставяш ме да си припомням през целия ден откъслечни спомени какво е било. А аз нямам търпение да заспя отново и да видя какво въображението (м)ти е измислило за следващата нощ.)
