I don't really know what to do with this. I just miss Edie and wanted to write something and post it on here. Not done it in a while.

Think I'm just going to do a series of one shots from Edie's live. A memoir, say.

Take care, as usual I own nowte and thanks for taking the time out to peruse.

Ben xx

Edie cursed obscenely as if the act of doing so would force them to answer the door any quicker than they were doing at that moment. The repugnant smell of the burning plastic still clung to the insides of her nostrils and caused her face to crumple unflatteringly.
He answered.

"Oh thank God" she exhaled.

And just like she always did with men, Edie barged in to his life without being invited.

"I need your help."

How bizarre, she'd never said that out loud before. Regardless of whatever context it may have been in.

"Eggs. I need eggs."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Have you got any or not moron?"

His face dropped slightly, hurt. Her insides did a small celebratory cheer. She watched him turn away and disappear in to the depths of his apartment. A few moments later, he returned with a carton of free range eggs. She snatched them off of him violently, and then thought better of it.

"Thank you. I'm baking a sponge pudding. Well, I am now. I'd originally bought the bastarding thing. But plastic film lids. Microwave. Go figure."

She threw back her head and laughed. God that felt good.

"You're welcome"

His voice reminded her of coffee. Deep and dark and rich. It possessed a texture that swam through her dulled senses.

Then she exited, as quickly as she'd arrived and just as abruptly.

She plagued his mind all night.

He tried to concoct an excuse to go round to her flat. He'd seen her coming in and out of it whilst doing her washing at the laundrette. She hadn't seemed significant before. Before now she'd just been someone else to add to the scenery of his day. Someone else that as soon as they moved out of radar, disappeared off his page, ceased to exist. Before now.

He never had been imaginative though.

He thought about asking for his eggs back.
He thought about waving a match through a thermometer, faking a fever and asking for some aspirin.
He thought about asking if his laundry token had been mixed up with hers.
He thought about pretending to be locked out.

Yeah, that was it exactly, he'd thought about it.

The doorbell rang.

"I've knitted you a sweater"
She hit him in a wave of cinnamon and spring.

"A sweater?"

She pushed a brown package in to his chest forcefully and he pretended that it hadn't hurt.

"Yeah; a sweater. I guessed your measurements. Don't be offended if I'm way out. I usually am. That's how I got this bastard."

She rolled up her t-shirt to reveal a dark, velvety bruise. He immediately felt like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"Anyway, I best be getting back."

"Oh, do you have to?"

"No, I lied. I didn't want to seem sad. Oh well, what's one more lie in a string of others hm?"

She barged in again. He didn't try to stop her.

He joined her in the kitchen. He placed the parcel down on the counter. He hadn't received a present in 14 years.

"You didn't have to do that you know."

They both looked at it for a second.

"Oh no worries you soft bastard, you literally saved me back there. And the sponge pudding by the way, fucking made my Aunt cream herself."

He laughed. He stood their and laughed.

She continued,

"So technically, it's a thank you for saving my life sweater."

She grinned. He grinned.

"You really didn't have to do this you know"

"Oh come on, it's the least I could do for the person who saved my life"

Funny, he thought, I was just thinking the same thing.