Tying Shoelaces (standard:romance, 2189 words)
Author: Lusa	Added: Oct 22 2001	Views/Reads: 3367/2441	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A conversation uncovers emotion between two long-time friends.

"Do you think homicidal psychopaths know they're insane?" I asked,
rapidly clicking the bar of metal through my tongue against my teeth as 
I leaned against the foot of the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. It was 
still covered with old plastic glow-in-the-dark stars from her 
childhood,  though they'd long since stopped glowing. It had always 
seemed kind of funny to me that someone as impassive and caustic as 
Sadie would have idealistic, dreamy things like stars in her room. I 
would have expected a five-year plan or evolution chart or something. 

"Stick around and you might find out," was her dry response, and I 
heard the rustle of a magazine page turning above me.  "I would bet 
it's a safe assumption that if you don't stop playing with your new toy 
anytime in the next five minutes, I'll go insane." 

Turning to a quieter trick, I ran the tongue ring against my lip
instead, craning my head back  to peer upside-down at her. 
Unfortunately, from my angle all I could really see was her elbow and a 
bit of her chin, so I pulled back and spun around, falling back against 
my arms. "No seriously, c'mon. Do you think they know something's wrong 
with them?" 

Heavy-lidded grey eyes slowly rose to look at me from beneath thin
brows. "Is there a purpose to this question?" 

"There's a purpose to every question: to get the answer." 

Sadie pursed her lips and shifted on her stomach, folding her arms under
her. "Well after a two-hour debate on why people yawn, I'm a tad 
reluctant to enter any discussion with you, Colin." 

I flipped my tongue upside-down at her. 

"Alright," she lowered her gaze back to her magazine. "No, I don't think
they know." 

I leaned forward to recapture her attention, gripping the bed posts and
narrowing my eyes at her in what I imagined to be a mysterious fashion. 
"Then how do you know, that at this very moment, you aren't a raging 
psycho?" 

She turned that bone-grey, disinterested gaze back on me full-bore.
"Because." 

"Naw, but think about it," I insisted, shifting onto my knees and
sliding my hands from the bedposts to meet in the centre of the 
headboard, banking forward to press my forehead against hers. "You 
yourself just said you don't think they have any idea that they're 
unstable. People with multiple personality disorders sometimes have no 
memory at all of what they might have done just seconds earlier. How 
can you be so sure you're really who you think you are?" 

Not retreating from my crazy eyes and grinding teeth, she raised one
malt-brown eyebrow. "I'm smart." 

I withdrew with a heave of disgust as she returned placidly to her
reading. "Come on Sadie, you've been using that one for years now."  I 
flopped back heavily on her carpet. Sitting up, I flopped again, 
experimentally this time. "Hey, you think your parents can hear that?" 

"You mean my parents in the bedroom directly below you? I'm going to
take a stab in the dark and say yes." 

"Huh." I rolled onto my back and braced my feet against her bed, playing
with my tongue bar again. "So they can probably hear me talking too. So 
I guess they know I climb in through your window at night." 

"You think?" She yawned, closed the magazine. 

"How come they put up with me?" 

Sadie crawled to the other end of the bed, dropping against the pillow.
"My dad's got a soft spot for you, I guess. Or maybe for your parents. 
He always says he's surprised they haven't run away from home yet." 

My eyes drifted around her room. It was mainly done in cream, but every


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