Catch-23

I enter that blank white room in my conscience filled with figures and file cabinets.

He's shifting around papers at one of the desks.

"Geist."

"Hrm."

"Hey."

"Go away."

"We need to talk."

"I said go away."

"Look, some-"

"Are you fucking deaf? Leave me alone."

I grab the shoulder of his trenchcoat and turn him to face me. "Fuck you and your loneliness, I have to talk to you."

Quiet.

"Alright. I need you to decide, right now, who's going to run this show."

"What?"

"Who am I? Me or you?"

"Me, of course."

"Out of best interests. For both of us."

He's thinking again. He rests his chin on his palm. "I don't know."

"You used to. We used to."

"I know, but things have gotten complicated, right?"

"Yes."

"And you're still mulling over that damn conference."

"Yeah."

"So, what? You want me to do what?"

"Either assert your position or get the hell out."

"I'm not leavin'."

"So you're dominant now?"

He smirks. "No."

"You can't just fuck around in here like a dog without a leash."

"You can't just tell me I can't."

"You're part of me!"

A wider smile. "I am you."

I throw a punch.

He dodges and catches me under the belt.

"And I like it here," he hisses as he shoves me away.

I regain my composure and turn to him as I walk to the door. "We'll never be sane until one of us is gone!" I shout. "You're leaving us out to hang!" I turn the handle and swing it open.

"Fuck you, too!" he replies.

I slam the door and listen as the rippling echoes scar my mind forever.

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