Mick was getting used to feeling like time was malleable after recent events, but his feet felt like they had been walking for hours, and while the initial fear and trepidation he felt traipsing about in Julie’s body was intense, it had now been replaced by a simple desire for a chair, or a beer. Preferably both. He’d thought about leaving her body for a break and then returning to the task at hand, but he’d encountered two problems there.
He wasn’t at all sure he could return to where he’d already gotten, which would be a colossal waste of time, and more importantly, he couldn’t figure out how to get out. So the only real option was to continue.
And truthfully it wasn’t that he hadn’t found anything, it was that he hadn’t found anything useful. He’d passed what appeared to be rooms filled mirrors, filled with clothes, filled with makeup, booze, balloons and sex toys. As near as he could figure, all these rooms were just surface crap. A toolbox of stuff for Julie to present to the outside world, but nothing that got at the heart of who she was. Clearly she was equipped to play many roles, most of them with a healthy streak of sluttiness and alcoholism. But he’d gotten awfully deep and hadn’t yet found any insight or help with who she really was. And if he was to find where her mind, her soul, whatever locus of existence made her, her, that’s what he needed to seek out.
Somebody was crying, and while like most men Mick hated tears, at least it was something different than the endless hallways made up of nothing useful that he’d been traversing.
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