She said she was on a break from bartending to better pick up men but quickly adding he wasn’t her type. “Too black,” she said, then snickered. He wasn’t interested in this *Marilyn* (she said) anyway. Too white, or not enough black as in hair color, as in clothing. Darla provided that for him. And he was bound and determined to find her and bring her home. He’d follow her to the ends of the Earth, or at least Ohio. If it wasn’t for his own shackles, however electronic they were. But *here*…
“Having problems with your i-pad… *here*?” Marilyn said, looking over while nursing her tea I believe and also probably reading his mind as well.
“Yeah,” he admitted since he had to. She was only about 3 feet from him and could see everything. “Won’t move from sideways.”
“*We’re* sideways,” she offered, then giggled. “You don’t even know where you are.” Fact.
Albert thought back. He was walking down the beach toward the Umbrella Club or Resort or whatever after finishing up with Claude and then… here. Someone or something teleported him. But he wasn’t too worried about it. He figured it was a feature of Our Second Lyfe he wasn’t familiar with. He’d solve the issue soon — get back on track. He was trying to google the problem and then this.
“This is HOME,” she said, and finished her tea with a big gulp before resuming her position behind the bar. Should be a busy night. The Umbrella Operation is not the only one with a deal with the Abyss.
“This is home,” Albert mused, still sideways, still not seeing the correct direction. He never will… here.