Logandra Moments in Time

Of Ghosts And Old Park Benches

The artwork above has been provided by my dear friend - you can find her at wenorter.devinart.com - her drawing were the inspiration for this story, I hope you enjoy it.

Alex wasn't sure how to address the issue. The sun was beating down against the windshield, her eye's only protection being her cheap sunglasses, slipping off her nose. The sky was a flawless cerulean blue, not a spot of white or grey fluff as far as her eyes could see. Not that she was looking, of course, her eyes were trained on the road before her, darting across the intersection.

But the standstill traffic at the newly reopened intersection was the least of her problems. The endless drone of car honks and the shouts of impatience erupting from passengers was but a dull silence inside the metal that encased her. Not even her favourite musician could comfort her now, Alex was so lost in her own thoughtless chaos that she could barely hear the track playing softly or transitioning to her favourite song.

She remembered her father always telling her when she as younger; knowledge is power. But today, her knowledge felt like a burden, a cement lump at the pit of her stomach that gladly made her feel sluggish and confused ad powerless. (Today, her knowledge was rotten pizza.)

Today, she knew the truth.

And it wasn't a truth she liked.

But some miracle, Alexandra made it home. Normally she would have loved the sight of the red brick house she had grown to call her own. And on any other day, Alexandra wouldn't have slammed the car door shut or walked past the roses. On a typical Californian summer day not unlike this one, Alex would have paused, listening intently for the chirps of a bird or the buzz of a bee as it sat on the flower she could smell so specifically as she held it to her nose. But today was not a typical Tuesday and nor was there a reason for Alexandra to stop and smell the roses save for stalling the inevitable. Alexandra couldn't do that to herself - to him - neither of them deserved it.

But this was not what she wanted. Not ever.

~

"Logan," Alex began, wincing at her words. She hated herself for wanting to say the words that would follow. She was so removed from her own body that as the words tumbled from her mouth, her emotions were left out and her words seemed cold and calculating, uncaring. "I've been thinking." Steeling herself, Alexandra Daddario took a paused moment to appreciate him, fearing it would be for the last time. It killed her to watch his defined cheekbones raise in a sarcastic fashion, as if he would say 'when are you not,' but she couldn't ignore the flash of doubting fear that glazed over his green rayed blue irises, or the downward pull of his lips.

"You need to go." Alexandra met his eyes, but immediately turned her head, not liking that she got to watch the twinkle in his eye disappear. "You need to direct that movie and if I'm standing in the way of you doing that-"

Logan stepped forward.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, evidently not appreciating her words. "Alex," he tried, reaching for her retreating form. "Its not- you would never stand in my way." He struggled with comprehension.

"But I am, Logan. And you're letting me." She winced at her own harshness, fully aware that her words were lies. "And we both know that if you don't do this, we'll end up hating each other. I never want to hate you." Her voice was small, vulnerable, choked. Those last words were the only truth she had told him since she returned.

Alex watched as his features visibly softened, moving towards her once again. But she wouldn't, couldn't give in to those imploring eyes, those lonely lips, and those sharpened muscles that wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in an embrace, for his career's sake.