Title: Solace by Myself
Characters: Gillian Foster
Rating: K
Summary: Gillian comes to terms with her new home, aided marginally by a shot glass full of maple syrup.
She could have called Cal to help. Heck, anyone in the office would have given her a hand if they'd known. But this was something she wanted to do on her own, and now, as she looks around her new home, she's grateful for the solitude.
It's too big, too empty, too new. It smells like fresh paint and disinfectant, the stairs trip her up, and she's still figuring out the light switches. But it's hers, and she knows that one day it will be home.
Just not yet.
She pushes out of her mind the symbolism of the move: her last concrete break with him, her move on.
The chaos of her belongings bothers her, but there's nothing to do about it now. Too many things she couldn't toss out or leave behind, and now they're piled on the table and scattered about the living room, cluttering her hall and filling her bedroom with memories she can't quite move on from. She stays out of the bedroom for now.
Maybe after I take care of the kitchen.
She counts things as she puts them away.
One two three four.
It provides her a sense of order and gives an accomplishment to her actions.
Sixteen seventeen eighteen. Pans under the stove, cups behind this door.
She assigns cupboards the way she likes them, following familiar patterns.
Thirty-four thirty-five…there's the plates.
She sorts out her second bag of groceries and decides she's hungry.
Seventy-one seventy-two seventy-three.
She's made a small dent in the mess, but it's enough. Enough that when the microwave dings, she can stop for a moment without panic rising, no longer overwhelmed by loneliness, content to be satisfied tomorrow.
She stands at the counter, eating frozen French toast sticks like it's the most natural thing in the world.