Black Spring

"What time is it?" you croaked, leaning against the countertop. Your voice was alien, as if you'd been screaming at the stadium all night. Gena slowly, with the dignity of a seriously ill king, turned his head towards the wall clock. "It's five to six... It's already evening..." He took a sip of his concoction. You could tell by the smell that it was a massive dose of lemon, ice water, and, it seemed, something from the pharmacy. "We've been asleep for ages. Although, judging by my condition, I'm still in the afterlife." At that moment, Kisa and Hank burst into the kitchen, their shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe. Kisa looked like he'd just been run over by a truck, and then the driver had decided to back up to check. He sank heavily into a chair, which creaked pitifully under his weight. "I don't trust Gendos and his innuendos anymore..." Kisa muttered, squinting in the dim light of the kitchen lamp. "'Try it, it's exclusive,' 'a smooth taste'... Yeah, smooth, like a sledgehammer to the back of the head." Gena didn’t even move, he just cast a withering glance at him over the top of his glass. "You were actually the one who cooked up this joke with me, Kis. And you were the one who was the first to say it didn't smell like booze," Gena stated dispassionately. "So don't play the victim here. We're all complicit in this crime against humanity." "Shut your mouths, my head hurts anyway," you interrupted their half-hearted exchange. The sounds of their voices echoed inside your skull like a dull ache. "Where's Mel? His sneakers aren't in the hallway." "He left yesterday to see Anzhelika, he said..." Hank closed his eyes, trying to recall fragments of yesterday's chaos. "He went to 'bomb' the city. I mean, with his spray cans. Apparently, the alcohol brought out the unrecognized Picasso in him. I hope they didn't catch him, otherwise I won't even make it to the police station, let alone post bail." Memories began to surface in fragmented frames. Last night had begun so innocuously. Kisa had brought over some bottles, Gena had pulled out his stash of homemade vodka, and it was all mixing in a huge decanter.