"You see, it was no accident, she bad mouthed me, so I spilt a glass of wine all down her lovely chiffon dress, red wine comes out of white chiffon right?" Santana laughed down the phone. After a brief pause, she continued her retelling of the events of a few hours ago. "No! Obviously someone has made up some bullshit story to make that bitch sound good. Basically she was milling around all the rich guys there, she was talking to them about the horses she apparently rides regularly, horses here meaning needy men's dicks. I was just minding my own business walking past, and she clicks her fingers at me, she raises her arm into the air, turns and looks at me right in the eyes, and clicks, three god damn times. So, being the helpful girl I am I go over, and that's when it all started..." Bzzzzzzzt. "Hang on, someone's at the door."

Santana rose from the sofa, one hand still holding the phone to her ear, she crossed the small distance of her open plan apartment and approached the door. Bzzzzzzzt. "I dunno who it is; I haven't even got to the door yet! Probably the neighbours or someone from the bar wanting me to pay for the dry cleaning bill." She reached for the circular brass door handle and turned it, she pulled the door open like she would if it had been any normal visitor. How was she supposed to know that this wasn't just an ordinary visit? "B... Brit...?"

The blonde rain-soaked old friend stood on the sidewalk outside Santana's door, her eyes fixed on an unimportant spot on the ground, wearing an oversized white shirt, so soaked that her blue polka dot bra was visible, and what looked like a 1960's inspired plaid blue mini skirt covering her thighs, hand clutched around a fluffy pink handbag that had also been drenched by the downpour of that night. The blonde looked up to catch a glimpse of her past love, making it obvious that she had previously been sobbing. Santana, phone still tightly clasped to her ear just stared in amazement. "Gonna have to call you back." She said down the phone. Still staring into the eyes of the wet woman, Santana tucked the phone into her jean pocket.

"I... I..." The doe eyed blonde uttered, obviously choked up.

"What... Ummm... I guess it would be best for us to talk inside, where you can't catch pneumonia." Santana slowly turned in the doorway, making room for the upset girl to squeeze through into Santana's apartment. The girl obliged, dragging herself into the warmth, leaving the torrential weather in her wake. Santana stared out into the rain where the girl had previously been standing, hoping she was hallucinating or something, or dreaming, this was a dream after all, she had been dreaming that this day might actually come since she said goodbye to the former love of her life. But not now, she didn't want this to be happening right now. She closed the front door and turned to confront her dream. "Coffee?"