The sun wasn't quite up yet, but the knock on his door decided to give him a head start on his day. He grumbled and slung his covers back. Grabbed his robe. When he opened the door, he sighed at the redhead and green-eyed woman in his doorway. She wore a gray pantsuit and heels, probably off to work. Books were in her hand.

"How did you find me, Katrina?" He rubbed his forehead, already knowing his day was about to turn out wrong.

She stepped in without his invitation. "Your parents like me, remember?"

"Of course, they do." He shut the door. "Why are you here?"

His parents were fond of her, unfortunately. They took her side on everything regarding him: his profession, his eating habits, his friends, his hobbies. He could never live up to their expectations.

"You forgot these other boring books." She held them out.

He took them from her. She always disregarded his love for literature. She never understood why he'd just read and read for hours on end.

"'Thank you, Katrina,'" she said.

"You may leave now."

He wasn't thanking her for anything, not after all the hell he endured with her. She didn't deserve his thanks, nor him. They dated for three years until two weeks ago. He met her at a yogurt shop. Both of them shared a passion for history—in different ways though. She was a businesswoman, with her own boutique selling 17th century dresses and corsets to adults for Halloween, Renaissance festivals, reenactments, and just because. Lady Katrina's was quite successful; she expanded it last year to another location in Sleepy Hollow. Crane liked that she owned her own retail store. He enjoyed seeing her thrive and supported her, even told his co-workers to check out her store.

That support was only one-sided. She didn't appreciate his career of librarianship. Introducing kids and adults to historical fiction or historical texts, in general, fulfilled him. Of course, the texts didn't interest all of the readers, but he was excited when they wanted to read more or found a book fit for them. He thought about becoming a history professor or a history tutor a while ago. Since his parents and Katrina didn't support it, he didn't. His father owned a boat company while his mother acquired a tea and coffee shop. Naturally, he was expected to follow their lead.

"If you didn't stick your head in so many fairytales, you would've been a great businessman, Ichabod Crane."

He tightened his hands on his novels. "I said leave."

"It's a shame, really. You're wasting your life away with stories older than you. You know your parents didn't want this. I didn't want this."

"Get out of my home!" He rushed to the door.

She stepped out, and he slammed the door behind her. He didn't give damn what anyone else wanted.

Abbie looked up from her coffee mug and toward the wall in her kitchen. Mr. 205 didn't sound happy this morning. She heard him yell and a door slam. Who would visit him this early anyway and why in the world would he let them in? He seemed like the quiet type, judging by his note. He liked books, she knew. From what she could hear, he had a British accent. It sounded nice, just angry.

She found some tape and a notepad in her drawer. Grabbing her pen from last night, she scribbled down a message and ripped it out. Hopefully, this would cheer him up this morning. Fighting with someone was always a pain in the ass. Plus, he checked on her last night. It was only fair to return the favor.

Crane paced in his living room, books still in hand. He set them down, balled his fists. Why couldn't his parents and Katrina understand he didn't want what they want? They always shoved suits and ties and loafers and money and supply and demand and customers and other terms associated with business down his throat. That's why he broke up with Katrina. All she talked about was him starting a business. She never supported what he believed in. His parents were thrilled when he brought her home to meet them.

"Maybe she'll talk you into being like us, son," his father said the first time they all had dinner together. His mother couldn't help but agree.

He heard a knock on his door. If it was Katrina… It turned out to be no one. He glanced in both directions down the hall. A note taped to his door caught his eye. He took it down and went inside, smiling.

Good morning, Mr. 205. Ichabod, though, right? Heard some commotion. Don't know what happened, but if they aren't in your corner, fuck them. Enjoy your day.

-Abbie Mills, 204

He laughed and thoroughly enjoyed her sharp tongue. His day didn't seem so awful now.

Thin walls made for easy hearing. Her ear was posed against the kitchen wall. Abbie bit the smile away from her lips when she listened to him laugh. It was nice, like spreading her fingers to let cool rain slip between them. Whatever relationship or friendship went wrong, she hoped it wouldn't hurt him too bad. Maybe they'd make up. Her relationships seemed to go to hell and stay there once and for all, she thought while she cleared her table and got dressed.

Danny didn't come by last night. He did text her to tell her he'd be over to get his things later on today after work. That was fine. He was always an opportunist anyway, competing when things weren't a competition. It was safe to say their relationship was officially over.

He makes number four. The fourth person to walk away from her for selfish reasons. First, it was her dad, who abandoned her and her sister, Jenny, when they were kids for a woman who lived in New York City. She had three dogs and always went to California for vacation. Guess old daddy wanted that lifestyle.

Her mom was next. She chose her stupid ass boyfriend over them every time. She wanted to keep him so much that she even dropped them off at Sheriff Corbin's house next door. The fucker didn't like kids, so mama forced Sheriff Corbin to keep them after school and during summer break. They saw mama again late at night, when her boyfriend left for work.

Corbin was a gentle man and didn't seem to mind them staying. Sometimes, he made them homemade teddy bears and t-shirts with their names on them. They knew him beforehand. At least mama didn't put them with a complete stranger. Every Saturday, his son, Joe, would invite them over for a movie or a board game. Before they went home, Sheriff Corbin always let them roast marshmallows for s'mores. They'd return home sticky, with a chocolate high. Abbie always swore she saw a mermaid disappear in the stars as she walked home, her belly and brain tucked of sweet.

On down the list was Jenny. She loved her sister. Always. She was mad at her, too, because she also left her. After Jenny graduated high school, she decided to enlist in the military with Joe. She was happy traveling all over the world. Their last night in America wasn't the best. They got into it.

"Excuse me, Abbie, for wanting to be fucking happy for once. What's wrong with that?" Jenny had said.

She wanted her sister happy. More than anyone. But it was like dad and mama abandoning her all over again, throwing her aside like she threw her shoes off into a corner after work. How was she not supposed to feel that?

Abbie used her favorite phrase, the one that implied she was getting ready to cut you off and shut you out completely.

"Fucking leave then," she said.

So Jenny did. They spoke a few times through postcards and two-minute phone calls; they never saw each other if she was home. Abbie did want to have an in depth talk about how they left things. She just didn't know if Jenny would be willing. She missed her sister and knew she shouldn't blame her for leaving.

Mama and dad, however, were different stories. She resented the hell out of mama, who called for Wednesday dinner all the time. Abbie always made an excuse of why she couldn't come. It was normally something around work. Her mama never pushed or called her out about it. She always said maybe Abbie would change her mind next time. She never did.

She didn't speak to her dad at all. He reached out to her, apologizing for his behavior. She always said okay and that she had to go. He suggested they meet. She said no to him, too.

Maybe Abbie was selfish wanting everyone to stay. All she wanted was to feel like a priority, important. She never got that from her parents. The closest thing to it was Sheriff Corbin. He really was like a father figure to her. She eventually worked with him at the Sleepy Hollow Sheriff's Department before going to the FBI. He mentored and trained her, stepped up when her own parents didn't. She could never buy him enough apple pie and ice cream to thank him. She met him every Sunday at their favorite diner.

Somewhere, way down where Abbie couldn't find, she wanted to reconnect with all of them. She missed the way her family was before things started going wrong.

She had just gathered her keys and purse when she heard a knock. No one was there when she answered. She spotted a white piece of paper on her door. She bit her lip, chuckled, and shook her head. Mr. 205 again. Their back and forth excited her.

Thank you for the cheer, Ms. Abbie. As much as I would like to, I cannot. I am not one to hold grudges for long periods. I feel much lighter when I do not.

Anyway, I was fighting with my ex. I do apologize if we disturbed your morning rest. Enjoy your day as well. I hope all is fine between you and your beau.

-Ichabod Crane, 205

She didn't know when, but as she stuck the note in her purse, she knew she wanted that lightness one day.