The key stuck in Ann's office door more than usual that morning as the grogginess of the last few days clung to her. Leslie still hadn't gotten in touch with her. Which was whatever, Ann thought – she was probably busy with the recall. In a way it was a relief. She made her way into the main office to find Leslie listening to Ben, who sounded even more high-strung than usual. "Look, according to this, the injunction is going to be processed by Friday at the latest."

Ann glanced at Andy and April, who were also watching the exchange. "What's going on?"

Leslie ran a hand through her hair and answered. "The Pawnee 'Freedom Party'" she made sarcastic air quotes with her fingers, "is challenging the constitutionality of the anti-obesity measure we passed. To defend it we'd have to go to court in Indianapolis."

"Or…" Ben hesitantly put in, "we could let the bill die and just focus on the recall election… Leslie, I'm worried that if you go up to the capitol this could end up dragging on and on. You can't run an election campaign all the way from Indianapolis."

Leslie shook her head. "No. What's the point of keeping my seat on the council if I can't do anything with it?" Ben nodded at the point.

After a few seconds of silence, Ann spoke up. "So what's the plan Leslie?"

"The plan…" Leslie took a deep breath, "is that I go to Indianapolis, for however long it takes. Tonight." It took a moment for it to sink in. She turned to her right. "Ben?"

Ben smiled. "I'm right there with you."

Leslie smiled back.

"Andy," she said, "you're my assistant, I'll need you there, too."

Andy promptly jumped to attention. "You got it Leslie!" He turned to April as Jerry was walking in. "Babe, pack your bags, we're going to the big city!"

Jerry glowed. "Oh! You two are going to love Muncie—"

April cut him off. "Shut up Jerry, this has nothing to do with Muncie." Jerry looked confused.

"Actually," Leslie said reluctantly, "April, you're going to have to stay here. You're the deputy director of Animal Control now, and that comes with a lot of responsibility." April felt a pang of self-pity, and a tension creeping into her shoulders. Leslie continued, "Andy, I'm going to need you to get some things for the trip to Indiana. Go to JJ's and tell them it's for me – I'll need six of the usual, packed for travel."

Andy nodded emphatically. "On it!" He ran out of the office, careening into the hall as he yelled over his shoulder, "Love you babe, call you when we get there!" April managed a meager "Love you," but Andy was already gone. She sank down into her chair, staring down at her shoes, completely sick of them.

Leslie turned to Ann. "Ann, you need to study up on the recent literature on obesity. You're going to be our expert witness!"

Ann shook her head, trying to find the words. Everything was moving so fast. She looked down at April, the only one who seemed to realize what a bad idea all of this was. "Leslie, I still work at the hospital. I can't just leave for who knows who long…" Ann hung her head and rubbed her temples; a headache was being brought on from the blur of motion that seemed to be swirling around her.

But Leslie was already planning out the trip in her head, and had long moved past what Ann had said. Soon Leslie and Ben had left, and the only ones in the office were Ann and April. Ann looked over, about to say something. April looked away and went into Ron's office, leaving Ann by herself.


Andy had taken the car with him to Indianapolis, leaving April to walk across town. The bus no longer ran this way; budget cuts had shut down the route. Leslie had vowed to find some funds for the bus, but she had to pick her battles at this point. And now April was alone, pulling her hoodie close, trudging on as dusk turned to night. The rest of the city seemed to have left with Leslie, Ben, and Andy – occasionally a car flooded the street with yellow light, only to be quickly gone.

The office had been quiet after they left. Donna was off in her own world, Ron didn't want to talk to anybody, and nobody wanted to talk to Jerry. The workday had been a stretch of tedium, waiting on the clock, just her and her headphones.

Down a nearby alley she heard a bottle thrown against the pavement, followed by hoots and laughter. One of the shadowy figures there yelled something incomprehensible at her, followed by the guffaws of his friends, and a few more catcalls. She kept her head down.

She came to the edge of Lot 48, the empty space where the Pit used to be, red and white Paunchburger wrappers littering the lumpy soil. She walked to the center and lingered there in the dark, out of the range of any of the streetlights nearby. Andy was gone, and for some reason she felt a little relieved. Relieved that she didn't have to constantly take care of him, and relieved that she'd have more time to study for her exam. At least, that had always been her goal when he was there. But now that didn't seem all that appealing, either. Sometimes she wasn't sure whether she really wanted to be a vet, or if it was just an escape route out of here – like so many she had fantasized of as a child.


The knock on the door jolted Ann out of her sleep; she had fallen asleep on the couch with the lights on – third time this week – and she blinked as she tried to smooth out her bed head. She got up and opened the door for April.

April didn't meet Ann's eyes. "Hey."

"Hey, come in... Sorry, I forgot you were coming over."

"Did you forget to own a comb, too, Ann?" April brushed past her, and went into the kitchen to start up the coffee maker. It was bright and clean in Ann's house; a nice change from her own place, the floor littered with Andy's stuff, and from the dark center of Lot 48.

Ann tried not to feel indignant at the way April was making herself at home. "Isn't it a little late for coffee?"

April just shrugged.

Ann watched her get out a mug and creamer, and noticed that she seemed more dour than usual. Maybe she was hanging out too much with Orin. She took a deep breath. "So… do you miss Andy?"

April responded caustically, "Do you?"

"April! Cut it out. You just seem down, so I'm asking."

"God. Sorry." She paused."Yeah, I guess," she said, not very convincingly. She poured the coffee into the mug and put away the creamer without using it.

Ann frowned. "Are you guys having problems?"

"What, are you going to give me relationship advice?"

Ann went back to the couch, and sunk down, exasperated, her back to April . "No," she said, giving up. "I just thought you might want to talk."

The regret flooded back to April. Why did she always do this? Why did she come down so hard on Ann, especially?

April awkwardly joined Ann on the couch. "Sorry. It's hard to talk to you for some reason."

Ann didn't look up; she was tired, and April's constant barrage was taking it out of her. "Apparently."

The regret was too heavy, and suddenly April wished she could go back and do this over again. She swallowed, and spoke up. "I think it's because I'm worried … that Andy compares me to you." Ann still wasn't responding. April took a breath; she hated the idea of saying this to Ann, but she felt like she had to. "You were a good girlfriend to him. And you're successful, you have this nice house, and you have a coffee maker that doesn't make the coffee smell like vinegar. And…" she rolled her eyes, "you're really pretty." She added in quickly: "And you're nice – even to me. I mean, everyone likes you."

Ann finally looked up at April; she wasn't sure what any of this meant, coming from April. "Look, you're getting upset over nothing. You don't have anything to worry about. You guys are way more compatible than we ever were. "

"What makes you so sure?" April asked urgently. Maybe, she thought, they had gotten married too soon. Maybe Leslie was right.

Ann leaned over toward April, a little exasperated by having to reassure her. "Where is this coming from, April? What makes you think you two aren't compatible?"

"It's just… it's little things. And big things. I don't know." April hunched over, taking her head in her hands. Without realizing what she was saying, she just spoke. "I hate it here. I feel like I make these stupid little goals that are supposed to make me happy, and then when they happen I feel the exact same way I did before."

Ann didn't say anything.

April looked down. "I can't make myself happy. I just, I need to get out of here."

Ann spent a minute taking this in. "So this is about Pawnee?"

"Yes—I mean, not really. I don't know." April said. "It's not that Andy loves Pawnee and I don't, it's that…" She searched for the words. "It's that he doesn't care about anything that will ever take him away from here." She shook her head. "He failed that police exam and he was sad for a while, but then it was like nothing had happened. He loves that stupid little shoe shine stand. He thinks me applying to veterinary school is just some hobby. The other day he kept talking about eating cows, and…" She was running out of steam, and out of words.

Ann let her words taper off before saying, quietly: "You need someone who's an adult."

April nodded for a long time. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment. Everything felt strange to April. She was tired; she was embarrassed for acting like a mess, in front of Ann Perkins, of all people; and there was the peculiar feeling that came with her thinking that Ann could actually be insightful.

After a moment, April asked, "Is that why you left him?"

Ann was about to answer, but thought better of it. "Look, April, your relationship with Andy is completely different from the one I had with him—"

"But" April cut her off, "is that why you left him?"

Ann gave in. "Yeah."

April felt sick. This new silence was too heavy for her to bear. She looked out the window at Lot 48, unable to meet Ann's eyes. Ann's living room was too bright, and it forced her eyes closed. Ann just watched her.

"Can we just study some other time, Ann?" April said quietly.

"Yeah, of course." Ann nodded. "It's late. Why don't you just sleep on the couch, and I'll drive us to work tomorrow."

April exhaled an "OK" and retrieved a white, clean blanket from the opposite couch. She laid down and slung the blanket over her. Ann went to turn out the lights.

"Ann?" April spoke, but didn't open her eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Do you eat meat?"

Ann was taken aback. "Umm, no. Not for a few years…. Why?"

"Eating meat is gross," April said, her voice nearly a whisper against the pillow. She frowned. "I'm not gonna do it anymore."

Ann wasn't sure what to say. April must have been exhausted; she wasn't making sense. "OK April," she said quietly.

She turned the lights off, and for a moment watched April in the dim street light coming through the windows.