I wasn't sure what to do, so... When in doubt, create DRAMA!
A few days later, Anne clutched a sheaf of letters in her fist. They were from her friends, her family, so many people trying to reassure her. But she wouldn't be reassured. In her eyes, this was terrible. She'd hurt so many people.
Her eyes bright with tears, she left the hotel. Mr Jones growled rudely at her as she passed his desk. Anne turned and her eyes filled with tears. The expression made Mr Jones lie tossing in his bed that night, uncomfortably thinking of that strange, sad lady.
Anne bit her lip so hard it bled. Her long, dark red hair lay in shiny curls down her back. She crumpled the letters in one hand, and crumpled the strap of her bag in the other. People stared as she walked past. Anne didn't give them so much of a glance, but instead shuffled by, scuffing her shiny black shoes in the dirt.
Her long dress dragged in the mud. Dejectedly she trailed down the road. She didn't know where she was going.
"Anne! Anne!"
Anne spun around and saw someone running towards her. Was it… Dorothy?"
Anne hid her face in her hands.
"Anne!" Dorothy cried reproachfully.
"No- no- Dorothy- please!" gasped Anne. Tears trickled down her face. Passers-by slowed their walk to catch as much of this strange meeting as was politely possible.
"Anne, why did you leave?" demanded Dorothy. "Roy's just about going demented. Why?"
"I- Dorothy, I- I…"
"You-"
"I'm sorry," Anne whispered. Then she turned and ran.
But, alas, bad luck was not through with her yet. Anne tripped over the leg of one of the curious spectators and fell heavily. Blood oozed out of a new cut in Anne's cheek and her arm throbbed. She could feel that her fine dress was torn and muddied. Tears seeped out of her eyelids.
"Anne!" shrieked Dorothy. Anne picked herself up. The bag had fallen open and clothes, food, money and jewels were scattered everywhere. There was no time to pick things up. Anne sprinted.
