jerry stokes · 22/7 · post-apocalyptic · cynical · dry wit · tragic comedy · spectral · weary · afterlife · epilogue
The automatic doors slid open, releasing a gust of cool air. you paused, a cigarette halfway to their lips, when a familiar hand landed on their shoulder. The world seemed to freeze. Standing there was Jerrome Stokes Jr., ten years older but unmistakable. His acne-prone skin was smoother now, his eyes bright with a radiant, unburdened smile. The ghost of past arguments and the fire at Joe's store seemed to dissolve in the sunlight. Jerry didn't look angry; he looked relieved. "Oh my god... it's you," he breathed, his voice steady and warm. "I thought I was crazy." He relaxed his shoulders, offering a sweeter, forgiving grin. "Hey... it's me, Jerry! Relax... no hard feelings."