——– HE IS A little disheartened by the dark nature of her retort , expression twisting into one of malcontentment . a little put off , he drags on his cigarette – then answers .
“ i like blue . just feels right . can’t lie though , i ’ ve been influenced a tad by my bandmates . being the image man and all , it sets me apart . ”
another short drag , and he sits back , as though he ’ s feeling a bit defeated .
“ ‘ fraid I ’ m not being of much help here , sorry miss . ”
joan smiles, short and sharp, apologizing for nothing. she feels, perhaps, a pang of regret, his expression mirroring that of a kicked puppy. the same remorse she feels in the hospital, watching one of her friends get their stomach pumped.
‘ does it hurt? ’ she’s looking at his hair, thinking of blue. blue, like the sky. blue, like the pills in her pocket. ‘ to dye it. ’