Snippet #1: Veronica at Work

"Hey, Veronica. We have a client coming in for a meeting some time in the next ten minutes. If you could show him to the big conference room when he gets here, that would be great. Okay?" 

There is no beginning, only a Continuing.
The angel folded (folds) up its wings and
spoke (speaks) and—

"Okay?" Veronica echoes before she really finishes processing what all had been said to her, busy unspooling the thread of thought from the snarled mess of noise in the back of her head crowd. She scowls at his back as he walks off, still working to wrap her head around the words he had spoken. No warning (No message ever comes with a warning), but still, they have calendars and emails and records here, but still, they're no good if no one uses them. 

The nerves spark under her skin like an electricity. Belatedly, she places his name as Scott — the memory useful, since he hadn't said. Belatedly, she remembers where the big conference room is located — which is good, because he also had not told her a room number. 

(the first moment of contact is always the most extreme.
there is never a warning. neither an explanation.
the sky splits apart like thunder like lightning—)

Veronica blinks out of the noise, startled when the door opens, awareness bristling over the span of her shoulders. The man who opened it lingers in the doorway like he's afraid to come in, staring with his eyes large in his head, not saying anything at all. 

(Spectre) Veronica doesn't scowl this time, but only because she's careful not to let herself. She can control her expression if she tries hard enough; this is important. She looks at him expectantly for another second, waiting for the elaboration explanation expectation, and then steps up to be the one to say, "Hello," graciously when he only continues to stare. 

The eyes ever present inescapable constantly seeking
and seething and seeing through to the secret core
of you, torn open and laid bare—

Veronica blinks that white light flare out of her eyes. "Hello," he replies, and then does not say anything else. The expectant silence gnaws at her like a nauseating waning. Is it her job to worry? (Spectre) If this man is not what he says he is? Is it her job to care? 

When her uncle, Jose, had gotten her this job, he'd told everyone over and over that she was a hard worker. He was over compensating for the

tornopenwound

of her, but he also wasn't wrong. Veronica is a hard worker. She even enjoys it sometimes. But mostly only when she's left to do the job she actually understands, and has to work less around people who seemingly want to make her work harder at it all for seemingly no reason. Her patience with it all grows thinner and thinner everyday. 

(Pull it together girl)

"Can I help you?" she asks when he doesn't seem inclined to tell her himself. Decides it's not her job to worry but also not her job to speak the first word. A little caution never hurt anybody. 

"I'm here for a ten o'clock meeting with Scott?" the man says, which he could have said first and saved them both the trouble. 

"Okay," she says, pushing herself to her feet, muscles uncoiling taut and unhappy. Makes sure her gloves are pulled on over her palms the right way, anxious fidgety. "You'll be right over here, then." 

Veronica walks off towards the conference room (Did you remember that night in September?) belatedly remembering to slow down when she hears his footsteps wind up a while behind hers. (busyusyusy bee). She hopes to run into Scott on the way — clean easy trade off, he hadn't left that long ago — but she doesn't see him. (inconvenience a beast you bear bare like a burden)

"You can take a seat anywhere," she tells the meeting guy, stepping out of the doorway to let him through the room past her. Tilts her head into a whispered reminder. Adds, "And I'll let Scott know that you're here."

The automatic lights didn't turn on, she notes as she leaves, heading down the hall into the bullpen area she would have guessed Scott was most likely to be in. Some people put tape over the sensor to keep the lights off during projector stuff. 'It was your meeting?' she thinks incredulously when she scans the room and can't find him. (Did you do it right?) 'Where else could you have gone?'

The words to ask feel too much an imposition on her throat. Maybe the people in here have seen him but maybe not, so she turns on her heel and speaks none of them. Her computer has the messaging system the company uses on it, and if they're unlike her, he'll have it installed on his phone too so he can see it anywhere. And if he doesn't, then surely he'll make it to the meeting on his own eventually. He knows the when-where better than her — he couldn't have forgotten right after he'd remembered to tell it to her. 

That's about when the thought about the light finishes forming in the right part of her head (Did you do it right?) the shape of the room        well-lit           piecing together in her head a dollhouse display. Veronica can't stand the lights. She walks under a light right bright that burns right through the eyeballs. The dim dark a relief. But other people are not the same shape as her — ["Why are you sitting in the dark?"] She was probably supposed to remember to make sure the lights came on, she realizes. (Did you do it right?) As part of the work. 

Oops. Should she go back? (the past is far            behind us). She remembers to send the message to Scott (don't be tense, be polite, add an exclamation point — that's good punctuation), and then hesitates. 'Where else could you have gone?' — if he's already in the meeting, and she interrupts, is this a worse thing than forgetting in the first place? (Be normal. Don't be crazy) Maybe the lights came on unnoticed and the return shape of her eyes

are you sure you're remembering correctly?

will only be a stranger imposition. If she does nothing at all, then they might still believe her that she had not noticed. (Freak. freak loser) If she goes back; she only gives the game away (who's playing?). 

Veronica had forgotten most of her supposed to be script anyway. She stares abjectly object     ing down at her keyboard. She's supposed to have asked his staring eyes if he'd needed to use the bathroom, or if he wanted water. 

She's also supposed to ask if they wanted
coffee, but Veronica doesn't actually know how
to  work the coffee maker in the breakroom
hallway, so she has always left that part out.

Grant — one of the people who she had met during her interview — had explained all that the first time someone came in for a meeting; Veronica can remember it fine (Liar). If she actually knows someone is coming in ahead of time, she can remember it fine.  It's not her fault Scott (and mostly everyone else too (there is never a warning)) gave her less time than it takes to remember. 

That's a lot to forget, though. (Freak. Freak loser). Especially because Scott hasn't messaged her back to let her know if he had seen the message. Was she supposed to have gone around knocking on every office door —

—prying eyes staring TRY TO BE NORMAL but there's something wrong strong song
in the air that people sniff out the second she steps into the room. Try to be 
NORMAL. Freak, freak loser—

— a strange mouse running hunting seeking prying Scott out of one she could find him in if she looked hard enough to tell him about the meeting he already knew about? Or is it his job to remember? 

                     Veronica is a hard worker, but mostly only when she understands what the shape of the job is. 

'Fuck,' she thinks angrily, bouncing her knee. She can't figure out what to do to fix it. Should she go see if that too silent, staring (Spectre) man is still sitting, waiting in the dark by himself? Or what? 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Veronica hisses, tension taut nerves prickling up the fiber of her muscles; doesn't know what to do at all. [Try harder]. Can't figure it out panic. No one steps up to the plate to tell her. Fuck it, she decides. 

She goes to the bathroom and locks herself inside a stall,      fall,     stall(fall)ing to a crouch next to the toilet. If she stays here for five minutes —

—(Freak loser why aren't you trying harderarderarder
arduous task too pathetic to resolve. Are you being 
normal are you          thinking                straight???
 

— Scott won't be able to find her before his meeting starts on time, and it becomes his own fault officially out of her hands if he tries. 

— Do you understand your actions? Otherworldly beings
are closer than you think whisper softly costly look, see?
Have you considered taking a step back? Have you 
considered the problem is you? Have you considered the
cost of your actions lately? Freak. Freak LOSER.

Veronica wraps her arms around the bent together shape of her legs. Tries to breathe through the noise. Doesn't bite her arm. Are you being normal? Doesn't press her fingers against the open center of her palm. Don't be crazy. Presses her forehead into the hard bones of her knee. 

She really doesn't like this job very much, actually. 

(She doesn't actually think it very much matters). 

Veronica clocks out of another day of work when the clock tick-tock-ticks over to clean even 5, not entirely sure if she misses them.

She thinks maybe that's why her
family all worry about her so much
now.

(she hates the job
but she nods her
head at Jose in a
passable effort at
gratitude as she
walks out.)

She drapes her body over her knees at the bus stop bench, thighs pressure even weight into her chest, and whispers the patient passing of speed in steady repetitions of         4        4        4                until the bus arrives.

T H E                 P R O T E C T I O N

(you are completely surrounded by angels)

(is that a threat or a promise?)

She doesn't actually think that very much matters either.