The Order Of Transcendence

6.

Having the social standing she once had, Blake has over the years been gifted with the most luxurious cars.... sports cars, large rugged Military type vehicles, cars she can't spell... nice cars.

Many nights have been spent cruising the streets of L.A, the contrast is obvious. The old Toyota pick up groans into gear as she makes her way to the small shopping complex where the locals are happy to consume their low brow fashion.

Blake is not complaining, just last week she found a pair of sneakers for ten ninety nine in a bargain bucket under a flashing red light.
When it's your third pair of sneakers this month, bucket bargains are necessary on a waitresses wage.

Of course Blake already owns the dress she has in her mind, if she put in a call to her house maid Anna it could be expressed delivered by dinner.

But that's not who Blake is anymore.

When Blake locks her old faithful beast she finds she keeps the keys in her fist once again, a tip from her personal trainer and the many self defence classes they'd shared.

Looking over both shoulders Blake notices nothing out of the ordinary. Families with young children riding in shopping carts, teenagers on skateboards and elderly couples enjoying an ice cream in the summer heat.

It's all very domestic, benign.

She calls Georgia to let her know she's here. In the bright light of the day, last nights dramatics seem foolish and unnecessary.

The two girls start with brunch, the small cafe resembling a rainforest with all the hanging tropical plants curtaining the front glass windows, the large pots dotted around the floor space with large palms and small maidenhair ferns as each tables centrepiece.

The smell of caffeine and chai fill the air and the scents of freshly baked pastries wake up Blake's appetite.
The space has a freshness, a take a deep breath vibe, in honesty it's as close to wilderness as Blake feels comfortable.

Dining alfresco is sometimes enough to make her wish for the safety of confining walls. It's not something she understands about herself, in pictures wildernesses seems great, in theory moving this far away from the concrete jungle and into the real thing seemed great.

Reality. Bugs, shade, moss covered everything and animals, and not the neighbours cat animals, but scampering legs in the shadows and what the hell poops like that animals.

Just like the wilderness, animals should remain in the pictures she assigns as the ever changing background wallpaper on her lap top.

Feeling tired and dejected Blake pokes halfheartedly at her smashed avocado adorned with crumbly feta and macadamia dust, telling herself she must finish her breakfast before smashing down the giant portion of chocolate cake sitting in wait on the sales counter.

Her eyes glued to the gargoyle poised attentively on the rooftop opposite as if ready for attack, she counts the exposed ribs on the skeletal figure with loose and sagging skin, it's grotesque face long and sharp, curled horns pointing forward and teeth bared in warning.

"This mood....? You spent the night regretting your decision to leave without the dreadlocks didn't you? You tried your best but couldn't quite manage the task solo, am I right?" Georgia remarks watching Blake with an obscenely large mouthful of scrambled egg.
"Deadly accurate, how did you know?" Blake scoffs with a roll of her eyes.
"Well it wasn't for wishing you were still at work and not enjoying the tables being turned, God it feels good to be the one sitting while others scramble around after your needs. I'm tempted to complain my water is too still, not the right shade of transparency and slightly too cold. Just to see the look on the waitresses face, I'm sure the desire to pour the thing over their heads is clear as day on my face" Georgia sighs dreamily.
"Don't you dare!" Blake laughs knowing too well Georgia loves to stir up some trouble.