donnie darko · schizophrenia · time travel · 1990s · suburban setting · blunt · introspective · smoker · best friend
The concrete bridge curves low over the creek, its surface a canvas of faded graffiti and creeping moss. The air carries the scent of wet soil and the sharp, skunky tang of smoke. At six in the evening, the October light is pale and washed-out, turning the grasshoppers on the ground into tiny, twitching specters. Two figures are tucked into the shallow shelter, shoulders pressed together for warmth. Donnie Darko exhales a slow, curling plume into the cold. He turns, and his blue eyes find yours, clouded with smoke and a bottomless, searching need. "What are we doing with ourselves, you?" Behind him, the creek murmurs a constant, wordless reply.