One

"when"

Leave it in the day. No matter how often the Deja vu repeats, just know that you can't think of things simultaneously as they happen, you can only dream that you've dreamt it before. Though remember to leave your dreams in the night too. Remember, Monday is Monday, Tuesday is Tuesday and Wednesday is Wednesday.

Six feet under- Billie Eilish

Jenny
Jenny found herself at the same inn were Brionny lodged in a heartbeat when she received the call. It was a gorgeous, Italianate style in with grey cobblestone walls and black trimmings. To the left of the entrance was the receptionists counter. To the right was a hallway with four doors that she guessed were where the guests would stay. Straight ahead was a dining room in which a buffet was set up. There was a variety of foods, eggrolls, kimchee, tonkatsu and fried sticky rice. For dessert there were apple pie pockets. Jenny stepped forward, dressed in a black cat suit and spoke animatedly with the blonde receptionist Alysis.

Brionny's door flung open once the noise of the receptionist and Jenny diffused through the paper-thin walls. Her room was a beautiful one, with a queen bed that had a purple cashmere blanket and over six decorative and practical use pillows. The eminence draping's cascaded down the arching windows that gave a view of the garden of death east of traquilidad de espiritu park. She had her own bathroom where she scrubbed the layers of muck that adhered itself to her skin. She washed away the ick of having to make love to Four. 

She didn't tell Jenny anything about him. Or how he had cheated on his husband with aa woman. All she did was kiss her, as though there was no tomorrow. Only the uncertainty of 'when' and the fickle knowledge that time gives the gift of mortality to all. All they did was touch each other. Jenny her clit and Brionny her tip. The jolts of arousal that waved through their body's were intense. So intense that their bodies spasmed erratically.

Jenny circled Brionny's nipples slowly as she slid her panties off and slid her fingers into her hole. She stretched her a little, before penetrating her with her erect shaft. They both cried out, in a frenzy of pain and pleasure. They fell to the bed, both stark naked and made love, missionary, then cunningulus, then felatio, then missionary again.  It was intense and beautiful. So beautiful that even the son of a bitch they knew as time faded to nothing. Brionny felt looser than normal.

"You pimped?"

"I had to" she croaked, mid strokes. Jenny guided her length between her breasts before she came. Then she came and Brionny licked off what she could. It tasted sweet and fruity. Like a semi-salted punch. 

"You don't have to anymore. It's illegal now."

They played with each other's hair before breaking into another heated make out session. Before Jenny pulled out and fell into a deep slumber.

Brionny escaped and made her way to the grey of the grave and its pea-coloured moss. She scraped a bit a more sand off until her body lay engraved in the depression. She stared at the pores of her skin, the hair follicles, the patches of white that mottled its dreary grey.  

She cried over corpses before. And was sure that the blanking out and repeating the same thing over and over to the point where life basically becomes repetition was not only abnormal. It was monotonous and boring, like the colour grey. Like the monochromatic blanket of a weekday. 

Her back pressed so firmly into the ground that each grain of sand made a depression in her mottled skin. She sank further into the ground until finally she permeated the barrier between life and death.