Reality

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Fridays  

Reality

"People see what makes sense to them, reality notwithstanding."

Bill was staring down into his beer.  His mind swirling around possibilities and what might be's, he did not catch the last part of Scott's declaration.

"Huh? Reality? What about Reality?"

"Geez Bill, pay attention.  Reality is something people decide on for themselves."

Bill lifted his head and turned to face Scott.

"What in the Hell are you talking about and what in the Hell does Reality and its perception have to do with the kid in the alley behind the GAF building? His Reality is he's dead.  Our Reality is finding out who, why, and when. Damn, I hate it when you go all Descarte on me." 

Scott took the umbrella out of his Pina Colada and raised the cocktail to his lips.  Draining every drop, he slammed the glass down on the bar, slid off his bar stool and stood tall. Reaching for the ceiling, he casually stretched like he had just climbed out of bed. 

"Time's a wasting partner.  We have a crime to solve."

 Bill chugged what was left of his beer.  Not being one for noisy dramatics, he set the mug down quietly and stood. He took a moment to assess his appearance in the mirror behind the bar.  Like a diva just before the curtain raised, he turned his head one way and then the other making sure he was still perfect before facing his public.

"You know, I just do not understand kids these days."

"What do you mean?"

The two of them headed for the door.

"Well, I think this kid was targeted for the way he looked. You know, what with that new Shrapnel look the punks seem to love now."

"Targeted for his appearance? Seems like some over the top fashion critique.  Killed because he didn't look like the rest of us clowns?  Nah, has to be something else."

Just before Bill pushed the door open, he stopped and looked at Scott.  

"By the way partner, your nose is out of position.  Might want to straighten it before we hit daylight."

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350 words