Disclaimer: Being sued is not one of my favorite activities. I don't own, just love! :)
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Abby knows before she opens her eyes that she doesn't like today.
The hour is still early, and darkness envelopes her apartment. It's raining, like it tends to do at this time of year, and there's a definite chill in the air. Dragging herself out of her coffin to investigate reveals she left the kitchen window open the night before when she got home late, burnt her dinner, set off the smoke detector and woke up half the residents in her building. She drags the wooden sash down, however her suspicious nature propels her to discover that the heater's crapped out again. Curling back up in her coffin seems like a good plan that she might just follow.
She's woken a couple of hours later by the noisy twins in the apartment above hers who have apparently chosen this morning to practice the military march she tought them two weeks ago when she baby-sat. Mentally cursing, she is drawn to the kitchen comforted only by the thought of coffee. Standing by the machine waiting for it to brew she lets her eyes wander to the calendar, and promptly slumps into the living room, leaving her coffee and her calender to sit in silence.
She throws herself face down on the couch and contemplates stabbing her brain out through her ears with the steak knife she finds wedged between the cushions, then wonders how the knife came to be there anyway, and that thought is interrupted only by her phone ringing. She won't answer it, and if the identity of the caller is any of the possibilities in her mind, she knows that they know this as well. Today is the one day she permits herself to take off whether she's needed or not, but she knows the phone will ring all the same.
She spends her day alternatively wandering absently around her apartment, shivering, not eating, and wondering absently what would happen if she threw herself out the window, and sleeping.
At some point it becomes midday and the phone stops ringing every ten minutes, and she knows her co-workers have all gotten on the private jet to Indiana. Instead of joining them, she paints her nails black and mourns quietly to herself. It's the way it has to be, because she knows if she stands by that gravestone again she won't want to leave.
When the sun gives in and the sky darkens she sighs, grateful that it will soon be over again, and hopes that as the years continue to pass, the pain of losing her best friend will ease. If not... well, she just doesn't know what she'll do.
-end-
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