A/N: Hey, so, story time. I initially started writing Until She's Gone just before Christmas, but I couldn't find it when I was ready to continue working on it. After searching everywhere that came to mind, I eventually just decided to start again and replicate the themes and metaphors I remembered as best as I could. A few nights ago, I was scrolling through the hundreds of notes I have saved on my phone and came across it. It wasn't finished at the time and I'm not interested in finishing the intended ending again, but I'm extremely happy with some of the writing and want to do something with it, so… here it is.
She was incredibly practical about the whole matter, in her opinion. Scouring the paper for job openings and courses, for anything good and natural and regular, had been the first step. She'd had no real idea about what she wanted to do, just that she wanted it to be respectable and normal – the kind of occupation where somebody would look at you and then forget all about you once they'd turned away because you were just that commonplace. That sister of hers had always stood out, drawing attention wherever she went without shame, almost as if her hair were real flame and her cheekiness real catnip and everyone around her fell into either the moth or cat category except for Petunia. There had been a time when Petunia had wanted that knack too, but those had been the foolish fancies of a little girl who hadn't known any better. Now she did, and she wanted to be as far removed from that as possible. Life wasn't about standing out like some overeager child or pompous high school graduate so sure of their own worth and single-handed power; it was about doing what was right, just like everybody else was supposed to do. Being good was often seen as being boring, so she might as well embrace that fact.
The typing course in London had caught her eye. It was such an expected narrative; the unwed oldest daughter of an industrial worker moving to London to do a proper sort of course and enjoy respectful middle class society, the kind concerned with morality and propriety. It would suit her just fine, and it would serve as a reminder to Lily as to just how one ought to act. She knew she was being idealistic, which she didn't accept on the principle of it being too focused on the intangible and possible rather than on the actual, but she could see it potentially swaying Lily from her current path. All Lily had needed, in her opinion, was for their parents to have decided to refuse the ludicrous invitation and teach her sense instead. It hadn't taken very long at all for Petunia to assess the course and her situation and apply for it, and hardly longer than that for her to be accepted.
Her apartment in London was utterly breathtaking at first; all those people living their normal, normal lives right near her doorstep, drifting past as a constant reminder that she was but one drop in the ocean of living people. It had quickly soured, however; she liked suburbs, she liked places where you could stickybeak and collect information like a magpie, and she liked tranquillity.
Upon the completion of her typing course, she'd promptly applied for various secretarial positions, received an offer, and accepted it without waiting for any other responses in case they changed their minds and took someone else. The goal wasn't to have the flashiest job or the highest salary, after all – overindulgence just wasn't to be done – but it was respectable and would provide her with enough income to remain in the city and, maybe, eventually move to one of its suburbs. Anything higher than that would have been frivolous.
In hindsight, she'd deemed that one of the best decisions of her life, closely behind moving in the first place. The first day on the job had been spent trying to remember as much as possible so that she wouldn't be seen as underperforming while not standing out as particularly above average either – until she met the young man from the sales department while fetching coffee.
