read whole story at boyslifenyc
“So I never quite got the whole story on the Ashley chick, she have a man or what?”
“Oh well, I don’t work there anymore so I guess I can tell you.”
“Ashley and Emily are the same person. It’s some type of Social Experiment…”
The story comes out in fragments. These are not direct quotes only bits of what my mind held onto. Spill a pack of Skittles onto an elementary school desk, see how may you can catch. How many bright reds, purples, and greens are in your hands, and how many are rolling across nicotine yellow and off white linoleum, how may disappear under rotting bookshelves, under, pissy radiators.
Emily is super smart, she’s a writer.
She does this thing.
Her hair is crazy and attracts a lot of attention.
She wears a wig and goes out as Ashley.
This other character.
The second Facebook is for this alter ego.
She wasn’t into it, I guess.
I felt bad for you.
Yeah a wig.
I had to work with her that’s why I didn’t tell you.
I guess she just broke up with someone, a long term relationship.
She’s really smart.
A writer.
A writer.
So pretty.
Amazing bone structure.
Smart.
A writer.
Beautiful.
Social Experiment.
Skittles spill everywhere…
I am dumbfounded. In shock. In front of the chocolate display case, next to some crazy Adaptation type orchids, I’m almost catatonic.
I’m feeling it again as I write this. Re-living the story, remembering, then typing the details. Thinking about the texting, my decisions to try and be clever. Being candid about some shit via text to appeal to some Facebook apparition. I’m looking back at the pieces, and it’s so fucking obvious. In a movie you’d have known immediately.
First act: ASHLEY AND EMILY ARE THE SAME PERSON!
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