POWER OUTAGE
Featherweight Mirandy fluff. Sat in her new workplace one evening, Andy finds herself with a slight case of TMFT and helps herself to some Miranda-related daydreaming. She starts scribbling some featherweight Mirandy fluff on her laptop when things take an odd turn.
Andy had one special, super urgent assignment for tonight. She was to tell the world about the miraculous recovery of their seriously ill senior editor, Greg. Andy herself had been in tears more than once since she'd heard about Greg's fatal-sounding diagnosis. The news of his remission took everybody by surprise earlier today! Champagne was promptly popped and various other drinks liberally taken. It was their huge, collective, emotional sigh of relief. Greg was, like, the nicest guy anybody ever had the good fortune to meet, talk to, or work with.
Andy furtively wiped off a few tears. She saw one drunk colleague after another take leave. Of course. She, single Andy, of course, had the honor of crafting the joyous news into a decent, coherent article. Totally glad to do it. But as silence and darkness fell upon the friendly, shabby office space, she was quick to develop second thoughts.
M … I … R … A …
She began typing the sensational title for their good news. "Miraculous remission"? "Recovery by miracle"? She knew how to tweak words and pump up stories. She kind of felt the emotions of readers before publication, and she almost always got the public reaction she had been going for. Andy Sachs was a natural. But where were her good news? She wanted to break the good news to a special someone. Break the news, pop a bottle of nice booze, kiss her senseless,
Her?
Andy blushed. Her fingers took independent action and completed the word on the laptop screen:
M … I … R … A … N… D… A
"Oh hell", she breathed.
She furiously tried to use the backspace button. Make that cursed name disappear, letter by letter. She didn't love that woman, she hated that woman and made sure to distance herself from her, every single day of her post-Runway life, she made so much effort to just not invoke Miranda's memory back into her life-
KZZZZZTTTT-FLICKER-KZZZZZZZZTTTT
Oh great. The scary sounds and dense blackness around her confirmed a power outage. A surprise, really, that it didn't happen more often in this ancient building!
Her laptop was now the only source of light and power. All powered up to 98%, good to go for anouther few hours.
M … I … R … A … N… D… A
- said the screen adamantly.
"Fine", she breathed. "Wanna play, bitch? Let's play. "
Andy was thinking hard. The streets around her had blackened as if by design, as if to give her creative thoughts free access to any sort of wild course. She typed on.
"Miranda Priestly just up and left her posh office. Alone in the dark evening, she took off to meet her long-lost ex-assistant Andy"
Andy had to laugh out loud at this part. Yeah, like *this* would ever happen, ever!
"Miranda instructed her patient, steady-faced driver Roy to wait outside Andy's office building"
"and she had to brave the stairs as the power was out. She took off her heels and went barefoot."
Andy laughed heartily as she imagined the elegant lady scaling the stairs barefoot. She felt energized enough to continue her impossible little story:
"Miranda had carefully memorized Andy's new workplace, so she quietly opened the lobby door on Floor 7."
Andy chose to listen out for a door slamming down the corridor.
*SLAM.*
"What the f-!" Andy breathed.
- TO BE CONTINUED -
