When Donna woke up, she was warm. Very warm. She wondered what was going on as she rubbed at her eyes. Had the administration turned up the heating? Stretching her arms and legs, she collided with something soft. Then it hit her.
The events of the past twenty-four hours hit Donna like a brick as she took stock of her position. She was lying on her stomach pressed up against Dem, one hand draped over him and one hanging off her bed. In the dim light, she couldn't see what time it was, but it was definitely dark outside.
Feeling a sudden rush of relief, she embraced her husband tightly, feeling his heartbeat with her own body.
"Who the fuck are you?" he muttered, shaking her off and sitting up on bed. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"No matter," Donna replied. "I woke up thinking I was back there."
They stared at each other for several seconds, unsure of what to say.
"Let's do what we agreed on," she said awkwardly. Why couldn't she just act normal? This was her husband! "I guess I'll, uh, go shower."
"Sure." Dem put his hands on her knee. "I'll use the bathroom first, though, and then go make breakfast. Cornmeal?" Donna nodded gratefully. Dem climbed out of bed, did a few quick stretches, and headed off to the bathroom. In the meanwhile, Donna got dressed and did her morning exercises, using the dumbbells she had noticed lying on the floor next to the bed. Since there was no free space in the bedroom, she moved to the living room, feeling the softness of the carpet with her bare feet. Now, there was too much free space. Donna wasn't used to having the walls be so far away.
It was warm in the apartment, and soon enough, she was sweating. She wasn't looking forward to having to put the same clothes back on after showering, but that was why she was going to be taken clothes shopping by Sooyen that morning. The girl was apparently very excited about the prospect of an outing with Donna, so even though a part of her wanted to stay in the apartment and rest, another was looking forward to getting acquainted and re-acquainted with everyone and everything.
The bathroom door opened, and Donna slipped inside. The hot-water pipe nearly burnt her hand when she moved incautiously, and the shower took some figuring out, as the tap was an odd construction that rotated between the sink and bathtub. There was an additional lever to have the water flow into the removable shower head, and separate taps for hot and cold water. At least it heated up quickly.
Showering was surprisingly enjoyable. It was fun to do something new, something normal. Since the tap wasn't even at chest-height, she used it to wash her hair before turning the lever and washing herself with the detachable shower head. For a while, Donna contemplated using it for a different purpose, but then she decided that that was what Dem was for.
Due to force of habit, her shower was short. Donna carefully stepped onto the slightly damp rug and towelled off with a random dry towel. She put her clothes back on and walked into the kitchen, where Dem was standing at the stove in undershirt, tracksuit bottoms, and slippers and listening to the radio, which was going on about some new educational policy. He turned around, hearing her footsteps, and his face split into a smile. "Hey," he said.
"Good morning." Hesitantly, Donna walked up and kissed him on the cheek. After a pause, he kissed her back. She took a step back, looking around the kitchen. The trashcan in the corner was tiny - but then again, there were just the two of them in the apartment. Dusty appeared to demand ear scritches from Dem.
"So we eat breakfast," Donna said to cover up her awkwardness, "go for a jog with Dusty, and then Sooyen picks me up and we go buy me clothes and get me a permanent ID?" She had been given a temporary one good for a month.
"Exactly." Not meeting her eyes, Dem took two small bowls from a cupboard and ladled cornmeal into them with a large wooden spoon. "Let's eat."
Donna sat down on one of the stools as Dem lifted a flap to make the tiny table slightly bigger and opened the fridge. As Donna looked on in awe, he took out cheese, tomato paste, and fresh cucumbers and tomatoes. As if that wasn't enough, he poured boiling water into two cups from a kettle and set one in front of her. "Tea or chicory?" he asked, passing her a carton of, of course, mango-melon juice.
"Chicory." She wasn't supposed to drink coffee, so chicory it was.
"Here you go." He gave her the can, as well as a spoon. "Cheers?" He lifted the juice carton.
Donna inserted the straw and lifted hers as well. "Same to you," she said, feeling like she was going to cry. How often had she poked fun at him for having the overly sweet juice as his drink of choice? She sipped the juice. It was as sickly-sweet as the declarations of love Dem had written in his last letter.
Donna read the instructions on the can of chicory and added a spoonful, feeling completely overwhelmed. She had no idea what to eat first. So much food, and all of it just for her. "Why don't you add some cheese to your porridge?" he asked, handing her a knife with one hand and petting Dusty with the other.
Donna cut the cheese into little cubes and sprinkled them over the cornmeal, which was steaming hot. She then took the tomato paste, which proclaimed itself to be salt- and sugar-free, and added a little bit to the side. Mimicking Dem, she picked up her fork, and was surprised at how strange it felt. Clumsily, she began to eat. It was all delicious, so much better than the cornmeal they had been given from time to time. The vegetables and the porridge and the cheese and the paste were all so good, she wanted to cry. She wondered what the others were doing, what they were eating. It already felt like an eternity ago.
"What are you thinking about?"
She wanted to reply, but remembered Dr. Chu's warning that going on about the past would alienate her family. "The others," she said, watching her words. "I wonder what they're having for breakfast."
"What did you normally have for breakfast?" Dem asked, taking a sip of chicory.
Donna explained their usual diet to him as she ate the cornmeal. Once he slipped into nodding along blankly as she explained everyone's idiosyncrasies, she changed the topic. "Uh, what do you like to eat?" She licked the bowl clean and rinsed it off in the sink. Unsure of where to put it, she left it on the counter.
"I-woah," Dem said in a breathy voice. Confused, Donna turned around, and realized he was staring at her.
"What is it?"
Dem smiled with one side of his mouth. "I'm enjoying the view."
Donna realized that he had been staring at her ass. "You think I look good?" she asked awkwardly, wishing she could sink through the ground. They had been married for forty years, of course he thought she looked good! What a stupid question!
Still smiling, Dem stood up and walked up to her until their bodies were touching. Donna leaned into the warmth. "Of course I do," he said, hugging her from behind. "I've been dreaming of staring at you for years." Suddenly, he stepped away, scratching at his head. He opened a cupboard and took out a piece of flat bread from out of a container. "Here you go. You can put some jam on it." He opened the fridge and took out several types of jam in glass jars. Donna's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the sight.
"This is all for me?"
"For the two of us, yes." He gestured at the jams. "That's blueberry and blackcurrant, that's strawberry, and that's gooseberry-blackcurrant hybrid."
He was practically jumping around, giving her the bread, opening the jars, and handing her a spoon. Donna was struck by how helpful he was being. Nobody had ever leapt to hand her something in prison.
"I love you," she said.
Dem froze in the process of ladling some strawberry jam on his own bread. "Uh, I love you too."
Why were they so awkward with each other? Donna leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, acutely aware of herself. She felt horribly awkward. "This isn't going!" she complained as she cut the bread into three equal pieces, one for each jam. "We haven't been this clumsy since second year."
"Maybe we're just out of practice. Let's try kissing again?"
Donna leaned over again and kissed him on the mouth this time. He tasted like the chicory he had just drunk, but a strange feeling still went through Donna. She deepened the kiss, putting down the knife and embracing him. Eventually, she ran out of air and broke away.
"That was really nice," she said, breathing deeply. She looked Dem in the eyes. They were wide and earnest.
He nodded. "I like kissing you," he said, patting her on the forearm. "Yeah." Dem looked down, flushing slightly.
Donna spread blueberry-and-blackcurrant jam on a piece of bread and ate it. It was amazingly sweet, as if all of the flavour of the berries had been condensed into a small space. "This is the best thing I've eaten in years," she said. "Except your snacks, of course."
"Do you mean me or the jam?"
Donna giggled. "I don't even know how to answer that."
Smiling, Dem took her by the hand. "I've been thinking recently. Do you think you could crochet something out of licorice strands?"
For a few seconds, Donna wondered why he'd need her to crochet something edible. Then it hit her. "You want me to crochet edible underwear?" she asked, laughing out loud now. "I don't think we ever tried that."
Dem shrugged, still smiling crookedly. He looked so much younger when he smiled like that. "I saw a porn movie that made it look like fun."
"Porn movies can make anything look like fun." Donna finished the last wedge of bread and took a gulp of now-tepid chicory. "And maybe later. I don't even remember what part goes where, let alone doing something fancy like that."
"Of course." He rubbed circles into the back of her hand.
Donna drank the last drops of chicory and put down the cup. It was still dark outside, but the sun was starting to show hints of existence. "Now the jog?" she asked, eager to get moving. It felt strange to not read the news after breakfast, but everything was so different, one more difference didn't bother her.
"Now the jog."
She got dressed, pulling on the same bra, sweater, and tracksuit. The socks, she borrowed from Dem, as well as scarf and gloves. With a start, she realized that she hadn't felt self-conscious walking around in underpants and a T-shirt in front of her husband. Maybe it wasn't all lost, then.
Feeling much better about herself, Donna walked into the living room, where Dusty hid behind Dem when she approached. "Here, doggy," Donna said in a sing-song voice, stretching out her hand. "Dusty? Don't be afraid of me." She approached slowly, crouching down in front of the dog. When she began to pet her, Dusty draw back, but soon acquiesced, looking at her with wide, confused eyes.
Dem put a leash and muzzle on her. "She's never snapped before," he explained, "but she does growl at people, and at her size, she could tear out an adult's throat before anyone could blink."
Dusty didn't look like a killing machine. She sat in a compact ball, as if afraid of taking up too much space. At the door, Dem took a few paper bags from a drawer, and they stepped out onto the small landing.
"This isn't like the apartment we had way back when," Donna said. "There, the corridors ran the length of the buildings. Here's it's just a tiny landing."
Dem nodded as he turned away from the door, which he had just locked. "I guess it's just a different style." They headed down the stairs, of which there were many. Between each floor was a landing with a window, and Donna stuck her head out the first one because she could.
The stairwells were clean, but there was plenty of graffitti, and posters were put up all over the place. They called on people to vote in elections from several years ago and advertised concerts. "Do people know who I am here?" she whispered, noticing a Mockingjay symbol painted on a wall.
"I doubt it," Dem replied in a consoling way, also noticing the drawing. "My name's not written down anywhere, and I don't speak about it. Some of my coworkers don't even think you're real." He took her by the hand. "If you don't mind, I'd like to pop into work for a quick second. It's right by the park, so it's no detour."
"Alright."
As they walked down, Donna began to feel out of breath. Stairs were different from normal walking. Finally, they reached the first floor, where there were no apartments, just bare walls. Dusty seemed happier now, practically running towards the door. "Just follow me." It was three kilometers to the dog park, which would make for a good jog. Dem pressed one of the buttons in the door and pulled it open. Donna noticed that the other one was labelled 'auto'. Automatic opening, most likely.
They stepped outside. It was cold, but not too cold. Donna adjusted her scarf and looked around. They were in a massive courtyard formed by four rectangular buildings. Closest to them was a playground of the sort Donna firmly associated with the poorest neighbourhoods. Tangles of metal piping reached a height of several meters; Donna imagined how Dem would have panicked had one of their kids tried to climb the rickety-looking construction. A ladder went straight up for two metres or so, then horizontal for another three, and then diagonally up, with the apex being at least five metres above the ground. After that, it went down in a likewise manner. The pole holding the apex in place jutted another metre or so up, and Donna didn't need much effort to imagine kids sliding down it to impress each other.
"It's insane, huh?" Dem said, noticing where she was looking. "Sooyen loves it. I can't look when she's climbing, my heart can't take it." They set off at a steady pace, a little bit slower than what Donna was used to. "A few years back, some kid jumped off the top on a dare and died. Not like Sooyen cares. She just wants to climb. I've seen her at that gym of hers, she's like a squirrel or something."
They jogged between two buildings, down a set of wide and even steps, and were on a moderately large street. Nobody paid them any attention as they ran, Dem holding Dusty on a short leash. When she tried to growl at a young woman, he effortlessly held her back. Donna looked around, taking in the sights and sounds and smells. So many people. They were walking around, not paying any attention to her in the slightest. At the bus stop, a large cluster of people was patiently waiting.
As they jogged, Dem showed no signs of growing tired. "When did you start running?" Donna asked.
"Maybe a year and a half ago? I've gone for walks before that, but I decided to do something more intense."
"Because of me?"
"Sort of. I read in a magazine that being in shape improves your sex life."
Donna wanted to make a joke but it stuck in her throat. She smiled instead, and they kept on running, Dusty pulling at her leash. Donna was so fascinated with every new thing she saw, she barely noticed it when they turned onto a side street and reached a park where there were already a few dogs running around. Dem took off the leash and muzzle and took a ball from his pocket. "Fetch!" he shouted, out of breath, as he threw the ball as hard as he could.
On the way back, they stopped by a small takeout place. Dem pushed open the door, smiling widely, and walked inside, Donna following him. It was a small shop, about as wide as the corridor in the Supermax.
"Uncle Demetrius?" someone asked, a boy of sixteen or so. "I thought you went on vacation!"
Dem nodded, still grinning. "I just wanted to show my wife the place."
Belatedly, Donna took him by the hand as the two teenagers behind the counter stared. Unable to meet their eyes, she looked at the ground. The floor was carpeted, and the carpet was starting to fray.
"Oh, wow," the other teenager said. "I honestly thought you were just pulling my leg or something. If you don't mind me asking, where were you this entire time? He's been going on and on about how much he missed you for, like, two years."
Donna looked up. "Away," she said vaguely, envying the boy for his ability to think that two years was a long time. As if noticing her discomfort, Dusty rubbed against her shins, and Donna petted the dog on the head.
"Oh. Do you want to buy something? We'll call it an employee discount."
Her jacket was choking her. "No, thank you."
Fortunately, Dem noticed her discomfort and led her out of the shop.
Back in the building, a teenager was lounging by the door. Belatedly, Donna recognized her as Sooyen. Her granddaughter was fifteen years old, and taller than both of her grandparents.
"Sooyen, you should have called!" Dem said.
"Whatever." Sooyen patted Dusty on the head. "I just got here in any case."
Dem unlocked the door and walked inside, turning the light on as he did. "Do you want to eat a bite before heading out?"
"No, I just ate."
"And you?" he asked Donna.
Donna thought about it. So much excitement in one go was threatening to overwhelm her, but the faster she dealt with all the things that needed doing, the better. "I'll just go right now," she said. "Might as well get it over with."
"Alright." Dem went into their bedroom and came out with a wallet and her temporary ID. He handed them both to Donna, looking intently into her eyes. "Now, the money on this debit card is every single anniversary and birthday and New Year's gift from the past twenty-five years. So don't try to cheap out, alright? Just buy what you need." He held her hands sandwiched between his. The warmth felt so good, she wanted to cry.
"Of course." She didn't even know what clothing cost nowadays.
"And Sooyen, don't take her to Westmount Square." He handed her a cloth bag full of cloth bags.
"But it's closer!"
"You need to buy yourself something appropriate," Dem lectured her. "The money I gave you is not for stashing away, it's for dressing yourself properly."
Sooyen was dressed in sweats and a loose waist-length jacket that was hanging unzipped right now. All of it was in plain colours, black ankle-length hiking boots, grey sweats, and black jacket. It certainly looked better than the old convict clothes Donna had been wearing just the other day.
"And you need to get yourself a proper haircut," Dem continued.
"Mom's got the same haircut as me!"
Since Sooyen's short hair was sticking up all over the place, Donna fervently hoped that was not so. "You should comb your hair," she said. "It's nice and straight, so it should lie down well."
Sooyen sighed and patted down her hair. "Can we go now?" she asked, pulling on her hat. It was also black.
"You need to buy yourself a pair of proper trousers." Dem wasn't stopping.
Sooyen clapped a hand to her face. "I have trousers!"
"What, that?" Dem gestured at her legs. "That's fine for sports, for climbing. Not school. And you need a proper coat, too. This one's too short for winter."
Donna suspected that this was a very long-standing argument.
"Longer ones don't sit right! And in any case, I have trousers. The ones I wore for the school play last year?"
"But you never wear them!" Dem sounded ready to cry. "Why don't you buy yourself something you'll actually enjoy wearing?"
"Well, I enjoy wearing this!" She huffed.
"They are completely inappropriate for school!"
"Alright, alright, I'll get something. Let's go?"
Donna nodded. "Let me just go to the bathroom first." As she walked towards it, the argument started out again, and by the time she returned (after a quick detour to the bedroom to grab her glasses, just in case), Sooyen looked completely exasperated. "We'll get going, then," she said, kissing Dem on the cheek.
"Don't get lost." He kissed her back. Sooyen stared at the floor like she had never seen anything more fascinating before.
Down the stairs and out the door again. Sooyen led her to the same street, but this time, they walked in the other direction, towards a set of stairs leading down. The subway. "They extended the subway to here," she said cheerily. "Makes the apartments a bit more expensive around here, but those friends of yours are generous sorts, apparently." She took the bags from Donna. "Did Grandpa give you his pass?"
Donna took out the wallet and looked inside. Paper money and a bunch of cards, one of which was a transit pass. "He did."
The turnstiles were the same as before, but Donna still tried to tap the card against the wrong part. "Hurry up," Sooyen said as she finally made it through. "It's almost here." Donna looked at the display, but couldn't make out the numbers. She walked a little bit faster, almost running down the stairs. Sooyen led her towards one end of the platform. The station looked quite different than the one close to her childhood home, from which she had commuted to university for so long. The quiet rumbling in the distance, however, was familiar.
The first thing she noticed was the vibration. She could feel the train coming before she could hear it. In the distance, lights appeared in the nearly pitch-black tunnel. The rumbling picked up, becoming louder and louder, reaching a peak with a familiar boomboom-boomboom as the train appeared. The wind, the sound, the bright lights - all of it so achingly familiar as the train sped by her and slowed to a stop. Even the chimes were the exact same. Donna walked into the train with tears in her eyes.
"Are you alright?" Sooyen asked, taking a seat. The train wasn't too crowded, but most seats were full. Donna sat down next to her and rubbed her face with her hands.
"Just memories," she said. "I spent years commuting to university, and then to work. Though we got a car later." Sooyen didn't seem very interested, so Donna changed the topic. "How's school going? What classes are you taking this year?"
As the train went towards downtown, the train became more crowded, though since it was past peak hour, it wasn't too bad. Donna listened to Sooyen chatter away. She could tell that her granddaughter was itching to ask some questions, but this was not the place for it. Sooyen's phone rang, and she picked it up, pressing one hand against her free ear.
"Yes?" she asked. "Uh, of course." She looked at Donna. "It's Aunt Cynthia. She wants to talk to you."
Donna realized she hadn't seen Theodosius at all that entire day. Eagerly, she snatched up the phone and carefully held it against her ear, unsure of what to do with it. "Cynthia?" Nothing. Her hearing hadn't gotten any better, but that was strange. She looked at the screen, which showed that the call was on. "Could you speak louder?"
"Can you hear me?" Cynthia asked faintly.
"Yes! Is Theodosius there?"
"Uh, no." She sounded hesitant. "He's still sleeping. He's not feeling well."
Donna wondered what was wrong. If Cynthia wasn't panicking, it couldn't be anything too serious. "Is he having a depressive episode?" He hadn't looked too good the past night.
"No. Last night, we decided to have a little meal before going to bed. In his infinite good judgement," her voice took on a sarcastic quality, "he ended up eating a can of condensed milk and drinking half a bottle of whiskey."
Donna laughed out loud. If his lack of self-control around fruits had been that extreme, she could only imagine his reaction to something sugary. "I don't think that ended well."
"It most definitely did not." Cynthia sighed. "I'll call you when he wakes up, alright?"
"Alright." Donna paused, unsure of how to end the call. "Uh, goodbye."
"Goodbye."
Donna handed the phone back to Sooyen, who put it in her pocket and looked up at the map of the subway. "What is it?" she asked. Donna quickly summarized the conversation, acutely aware that anyone could be listening. "That's funny," she said. "Also, this is our stop."
As the train slowed down, Sooyen got to her feet. Donna followed her, clutching at the pole. Once, she had also weaved effortlessly through people on a decelerating train, but she was out of practice.
Sooyen led her to a walkway labelled 'Central Mall'. Donna was overcome with memories. She knew now from newspapers that it had only been impressive compared to the rest of the country, but she still remembered the bright colours and the glamour as having been the essence of the image the Capitol had tried to project back then.
The stores were all different. That was the first thing Donna noticed, along with the clean lines and absence of colour. The place was still a whirlwind of sensation, but it wasn't nearly as overpowering as Donna had expected. Sooyen pulled her into a clothing store, where shelves were full of all sorts of clothing in plain colours. Looking closer, Donna noticed that each article of clothing came in one or two styles. The people around her, though, did not appear to be poor.
"What is this place?" Donna asked quietly.
"A clothing store," Sooyen replied, looking confused. "What do you want to get first?"
Donna needed to purchase an entire wardrobe. Even if her old clothes had somehow survived, she had lost nearly twenty kilograms since then. Her head spun from all the things she had to buy, and she ran through the list of things in her mind. She decided to go from the bottom layer outwards. A list on the wall said that underwear was on the second floor, so there she went.
Everything on the shelves was simple and utilitarian, not at all like the lacy underwear Livia had gotten her as a wedding gift for some reason. Donna still wasn't sure what it was for, because it seemed to her that the whole point of wearing it was to take it off almost immediately. Then, she wondered if Dem would be interested in having sex at some point in the near future. They'd need to talk about that.
A quick measurement using a tape lying on a shelf revealed what Donna had already suspected - she had shrunk to a small. She took a hanger on which a bra hung and looked at it skeptically. It looked similar to what she had worn in prison, except that it was black instead of grey.
"Um, that's a sports bra," Sooyen pointed out.
Donna shrugged and put four into the basket her granddaughter was holding. "I've forgotten how to fiddle with those hooks," she said. "And I certainly don't need any extra support, do I?" Sooyen giggled, even though she looked awkward. Then again, though, she was a fifteen-year-old girl being forced to accompany her grandmother as she bought underwear. Donna made a mental note to not talk to her granddaughter like she would have to Theodosius. "I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable," she said apologetically. "I don't know how to talk normally anymore."
"Oh, no, no, it's no issue," Sooyen said. If only Theodosius could have been there! Donna wanted to turn to the side and ask him what he thought, but he wasn't there.
Donna still resolved to be more careful. She wondered how much of what she would need, and the rough tally of the price made her mind boggle. Still, she filled the basket with underwear and socks, all of it black, because Sooyen was wearing grey and black and she couldn't stand grey. "Where are the shirts?"
Someone materialized from out of nowhere, as if summoned by the question. "Are you looking for something?" he asked.
Donna's brain shut down. She had no idea how to answer. In desperation, she looked at Sooyen, who fortunately had the presence of mind to explain that they needed shirts. The man pointed them to the other end of the store, where the shirts were. Unsure of what style to pick, Donna took a long-sleeved shirt that was more feminine, and one that was more androgyous, like the uniform she was used to. She put on the androgynous one over the T-shirt she was already wearing, did up the buttons, looked in the mirror, and paused.
From the mirror, a confident professional looked back. From the waist up, the woman looked neat and professional, if a bit fond of cheaper styles. Her haircut was a sign of practicality, and her lined face spoke of a fondness for the outdoors. Not at all the ex-con. Just a sixty-two-year-old professional. Finally, Donna realized what her parents had meant when they had blathered on about why nobody would take her seriously if she didn't get more flattering clothing. She may have succeeded in life, but she had always been perceived as the stereotypical over-ambitious student, someone who lived off coffee and snack cakes and turned up in rubber sandals to a job interview.
Thinking of her parents made her realize that she needed to go see them. And her children. And she needed to call her brother. Donna felt like she was being torn apart by all the things she had to do. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she had plenty of time. She turned around to face her granddaughter. "How do I look?" she asked.
"Great."
"You know," Donna said, "you should also try dressing like this. It's very comfortable, and it will get you taken more seriously." Sooyen did look like she was going to a sports match or something else along those lines.
Sooyen sighed. "It's not that."
Donna had to hold back a sigh of her own. It was already clear to her that Sooyen was a hardworking and enthusiastic student, and she didn't want her to have issues because of something as silly as poorly picked clothing. "What, then?"
"I don't like how it fits me."
Donna thought of Holder. "Does it chafe? I promise, this is very comfortable." She did a few arm circles as proof.
Sooyen shook her head. "No, I mean I don't like how it looks on me."
"You could try something that suits your figure better," Donna suggested. "You can dress androgynously without looking like you put on a sack."
"That's not the issue. I-" She shoved her hands in her pockets. The basket was by her feet. "Do you like that shirt?"
Donna decided not to push it. "Oh, yes, very much." After some contemplation, she took eight identical shirts despite the price. She'd get some T-shirts too, of course, but she decided she preferred a slightly more formal appearance. Or maybe she was just used to the shirts she had worn for twenty-five years. Donna bent over to put them in the basket and paused, looking at her knees. There was no number on them. Nobody would ever call her 'Female Nine' again.
"I think you might need another basket," a sales assistant said, handing them one.
"Uh-huh," Donna said, mind still spinning from the realization about her name.
"Do you need help with anything else?"
"Uh, no," Donna said. "I, uh, don't have any clothes. So I need new ones." Was that too much? She knew she wasn't supposed to talk to sales assistants, but she also didn't want to brush them off. It felt like calibrating a long-unused tool. "No, I don't need any help."
T-shirts, sweaters, trousers - Donna had no more mental energy left, so she simply picked out black clothing in a neutral cut. At her age, clothing that was a little bit looser was more flattering in any case. One of the pairs of trousers she picked had a multitude of pockets, like that of a worker.
"Great-grandma and Great-grandpa will flip out," Sooyen warned when she saw them.
Donna smiled at her. "That's what these ones are for," she said, holding up a pair of simple black slacks. "The cargo trousers will only be worn when they are out of sight."
"Smart," Sooyen said admiringly.
When it came to winter clothing, every cell in Donna's body wanted to throw her hands in the air and give up. "Pick me out something decent," she told her granddaughter and sunk onto a bench, head in her hands.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes." Donna looked up. "I'm just tired. All this noise, all this choosing. I don't know how to choose."
Fortunately, Sooyen had picked up her preferences quickly. As Donna sat on the bench and took deep breaths, trying to ignore the sounds and smells - she now understood what Holder had meant by overstimulation - her granddaughter fetched a windbreaker, a jacket, and a longer coat, all of which Donna liked. They were all black, but she didn't mind. She looked good in black. Then came the turn of shoes and athletic wear. Sooyen looked ready to drop dead. Donna understood her granddaughter.
"I need to go home," Donna said as they finally left the store, arms full of bags. "We can deal with the ID tomorrow."
"Alright," Sooyen said, sounding happy. "That sounds good." They walked on in silence for a while. "Maybe you should put on the clothes," she suggested. "That would make for a lighter load."
That was a smart idea. They immediately headed for the nearest bathroom, where Donna used the scissors Sooyen had on her for some reason to cut off the tags and put on her new clothes. It felt strange, to be decked out in new things from head to toe. She even felt differently. Looking down at her clean, sturdy boots, at the well-fitting trousers, Donna couldn't help but feel better about herself. She even stood taller.
Sooyen agreed enthusiastically. She actually clapped with delight and took photos on her phone. "You remind me of Edward from A/V," she said, "with the black clothes and all."
"Who's Edward?"
"Oh, he was the head of audio-visual for the school play last year. He's in uni now, majoring in theatre, but he still drops by every day to see how things are going."
Something from the letters came to mind. "Shouldn't you be at rehearsals now? Isn't it in two weeks?"
Sooyen shook her head. "We're done building, and we're not needed at rehearsal today." She then went on a lengthy monologue about how amazing Edward was. Donna wasn't sure if her granddaughter had a crush or was just full of professional admiration.
As Sooyen jabbered away, she led Donna to an exit. "Maybe you need fresh air," she said tentatively.
Fresh air sounded good. It was warm in the mall, and Donna was wearing the heavy coat. "Maybe it'll wake me up."
The cold breeze was indeed bracing, but the crowd of protesters in the distance did not improve her mood. "What's going on there?" she asked with a sinking feeling and pulled up her scarf to cover her face. Nobody sane would be expecting her of all people to be going shopping with her granddaughter, but it was best to be cautious.
"Oh. Uh." Sooyen scratched her neck. "Some revanchists were planning a rally. So I guess the antis showed up, too, and there was an anti-foreign interests rally planned as well, so I guess they collided."
Being opposed to foreign interests was not a partisan movement, as it drew everyone from isolationist revanchists to left-wingers who were opposed to the exploitation of a poor country for its resources. It was strange to consider Panem a poor country, given the luxury she had lived in for so long, but every single country had an upper class, and even the Capitol was heavily industrialized. No wonder so many did not want to have to face up to the subordinate position they now had, and longed for the days of isolation, when the rich had considered themselves at the top of the world.
Sooyen took out her phone and texted someone. Her face lit up. "My friends are here!" she said happily. "Let's go meet them!"
"I am quite possibly the last person who should be appearing here," Donna warned her.
"No issue. You're wearing the scarf."
"Sooyen, my arms are tired from the bags." Donna had no idea how to make Sooyen take this seriously.
In response, Sooyen took all the bags from her. "Let's go!" she said. "We're meeting up at that statue." Donna did not move. She knew full well that, out of the groups gathered in the square, there was only one her granddaughter could belong to. Donna wondered what the friends would be like. After the prosecution and twenty-five years of arguments a group of teenagers would be nothing, but she had no desire to be insulted. She could see anti-foreign interests placards and banners, and was relieved that at least she didn't have to stand so close to the antis.
"Sooyen."
"What?"
"Do you really think this is appropriate? You can always come back later."
"Fine," she sighed. "Let's go to the subway."
At home, lunch was already on the table. Egg curry and salad made from fresh vegetables. Sooyen rubbed her hands together gleefully and ran to wash her hands. Donna took her time getting undressed, Dem leaning against the wall and watching her. "Your parents won't be happy," he said, devouring her with his eyes.
"I'm sixty-two years old, I'm sure I can put up with some parental disapproval."
Dem laughed. "The clothes do suit you," he said. "You look like you again." He ran a hand down her arm, and Donna leaned into the light pressure. "You look great."
"So do you."
Dem looked down at himself. He was wearing a striped undershirt tucked into tracksuit bottoms and his slippers. "I look like I just crawled out of bed."
"But you're always beautiful," she said sincerely.
"Uh, thanks." Dem scratched his head. "You, too."
"Should I take these bags somewhere?" Sooyen asked.
"No, I'll do it." Donna picked them up. "I need to get changed in any case."
In their bedroom, Donna picked out some clothing that was suited for wearing at home. A bra, T-shirt, and knee-length shorts. She cut off the tags and put them on, delighting in the thinness of the fabric and the warmth of the apartment. The rest of the clothing, she left for later.
Dem nearly dropped the curry as he walked out of the kitchen. "You look great," he said.
"Thanks." Donna wiped her hands on her T-shirt. "Do you need help with anything?"
"Oh, no, no, Sooyen already got everything."
The table in the living room was set for three. Donna was taken aback by the abundance of food. A little pot full of rice stood next to a deep plate full of salad. Next to it stood sunflower oil, salt, pepper, and a shaker of a reddish spice with no label. Dem put down the pot of curry on a towel and looked at them. "Let's eat, then!"
Sooyen used a large spoon to take the salad, which she then dumped oil, salt, and pepper on. She likewise used up half of the other spice on her own curry.
"I can't eat spice," Dem explained. "Heartburn. So I make it without and the others dump in the spice by the bucket-load."
Sooyen was shovelling food into her mouth with the rapidity of a machine-gun. By the time Donna was taking her first bites of the curry, which was delicious, she had already finished half. The salad was crunchy and juicy. As she munched on the fresh vegetables, she wondered when Dem would send in more. Eating with a fork was surprisingly easy. She'd need to ask Tia to bring one in more often.
Wait. She wasn't in her cell. She was in her apartment, sitting on a soft chair with her toes touching the soft carpet and Dusty being patted on the head by her granddaughter, who was lecturing Dem about how to properly use a circle saw.
Donna took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She had spent twenty-five years behind bars, that could not simply be brushed aside. This was perfectly natural. She ate a forkful of curry. It was good. It also didn't make her feel any better.
"How was shopping?" Dem asked.
Donna looked up, startled. She took a sip of water to have more time to think. "Exhausting."
Dem laughed. "You never did like it."
"Well, yes. We also saw a protest."
"I read about that," Dem said with a nod.
Sooyen leapt up from her place. "I'm done." She picked up her plate.
"Are you going to leave now?"
"Yes."
The two of them ate in silence as Sooyen cleaned up after herself and left with a final "Bye!" Donna polished off the last of the salad. She wondered if she should take more bread, but decided not to. There was no more curry, rice, or salad left.
"Do you remember how to use a computer?" Dem asked. Donna nodded uncertainly. Computers had changed. "I bought subscriptions to the four newspapers you're used to reading. Why don't I show them to you?" He paused. "And I also bought you a full set of crochet hooks."
Remembering the cost of the clothing (even though inflation hadn't gone away), Donna leaned over and hugged her husband. He was doing so much for her. Even though his job paid not that much above minimum wage, he had saved up over the years just to make her homecoming a good one.
The first thing Donna noticed about the laptop was that it was very thin and weighed almost nothing. "I've had it for seven years now," Dem said. They were sitting in the armchair in front of the little table. "Battery doesn't hold the charge for more than a few hours, but it still runs fine. Passwords are all in the drawer, but to log in, just press your thumb against this thing." He did so, and the screen changed. "I'll set it to you now. Laelia taught me how to use this thing properly, so I'm an expert now." He chuckled. "It's like technology is running away from us. I don't even remember when I lost the ability to keep up."
"New things are hard," Donna agreed, arm around his shoulders.
"Keep in mind that this thing is a touchscreen." He clicked on a browser icon. "And here's The World."
Donna used the touchpad to scroll down. "I need my glasses."
Dem immediately got up to get them. When Donna put them on, she could see the headlines much better. There were more of them than in the print version, and the page was regularly updated, judging by the timestamps. Curious, Donna clicked on an article that purported to be a stream of the rallies in the City Circle.
The first thing she saw was a large photograph of a youth holding a placard that said 'Revanchists, away from the Supermax, your idols will stay there!' Donna could only laugh at the thought of any of them being anyone's idols. "Strange," she mused to the lightbulb. "Far as I can tell, we're not idol material. Martyr, maybe, but I can't imagine anyone striving to emulate Hryb."
"I doubt this kid's an expert," Dem said. Donna nearly leapt into the air at hearing his voice.
"You're certainly a better conversationalist than the lightbulb," she said, scrolling down to watch a video of a shouting match between revanchists and antis. The volume was off. "It'll be strange to have someone to talk to."
"Lightbulb?" Donna quickly explained. She wondered for a few seconds how the lightbulb was doing before firmly kicking herself. The lightbulb was just a lightbulb. It was not sapient. "Well, you certainly won't need a lightbulb when you have me," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "Now, what else is new in the world?"
"That's a lot of letters," Dem said as they sat on the couch, the box between them. "And photos."
"And that's just the official ones, too," Donna replied with a smile. "Dancer said they've got entire shelves of correspondence."
Dem nodded, looking somber. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
"Tell you about what?" She pulled up her legs to sit cross-legged and wished she had her ball to fidget with.
"About any of that. I had no idea you were writing a book! I thought you were sending the kids and I the occasional letter!"
Donna shrugged, unable to meet his eye. "I didn't want to worry you."
"Worry me how?" He threw his hands in the air. "Did you really not trust me?"
"I trust you!" Donna exclaimed, wondering what he was going on about. "How can you think I don't?"
Dem crossed his arms. "Easily enough. You didn't tell me you were writing a book. When Livia invited me over to look at your correspondence, I was shocked. You did all this behind my back! I thought your friends were just being generous, but you were twisting their arms and practically blackmailing them!"
Donna flailed for a way to express herself. She had put in so much effort into letting her husband live without worrying, and here he was disparaging her efforts! "Don't be ridiculous. How could I blackmail someone out of a prison cell?"
"You played on the fact that you helped them back then. How could you dangle such a thing in someone's face?" He sighed and rested his chin in his hand. "It's like you showed one face to me, and one - to them."
"I don't want to argue with you," Donna said in a small voice, looking through the stack of old photographs. In them, her children got older in the blink of an eye.
Dem leaned over and took her by the hand. "I don't want to argue with you either," he said, looking her in the eyes. "But I just want to understand. Why didn't you trust me?"
Why couldn't he understand? "I didn't want to trouble you."
Sighing, he picked up an old letter and skimmed it. "But why didn't you mention me at all in the book?"
"I thought you wouldn't want to be associated with me."
Dem sighed. "Why didn't you just ask? Because with how it stands now, the little I had, you took from me. It's like you didn't have a husband and children!"
"I'll add you back in," Donna offered, staring at her hands. He was right. She had completely erased his struggles from the book.
"That's not what I want. I want you to be open with me. I want you to want to share what you're doing with me." He clutched her hand tighter. "I want you to trust me. I love you, after all."
"I love you, too." Donna looked at an old photo, thinking over his words. She knew she couldn't be open with him. She had spent too much time trying to assure him that everything was alright, and she knew that he had done the same thing. "Maybe we should talk about this with someone."
Dem nodded. "Is next weekend good?"
"Yes." In the photograph, the children were all small, Dem's hair wasn't white, and Inky was a tiny ball of fur in Laelia's lap.
"Is that the year we got Inky?" Dem asked, looking at the photo closer. "It must be. He's microscopic in here."
"Let's go see my parents when we walk Dusty," Donna suggested awkwardly, still feeling the sting of his words. "And Inky."
"Of course," Dem said with a slight smile. "We can't not go see Inky."
The neighbourhood where her parents lived with Inky and Octavius had been completely transformed. Where there had once been houses, there were now highrises, and Dem led her (and Dusty) into one where Mom and Dad lived on the first floor.
Nearly shaking with anxiety, Donna knocked on the apartment door. A few seconds later, it was opened to reveal Octavius, who towered over her. "Mom?" he whispered.
"Uh, yes." Donna hugged him to cover up her awkwardness. "How tall you've gotten!"
"Grandma! Grandpa!" he called out. "Look who's here!"
Before Donna could even take off her shoes, her parents were there, and they were also hugging her. "We're so glad you're back," Dad whispered as he tried to crush her in his hug. "Missed you so much." He was about her height now. He drew back, hands on her shoulders. "How's my little engineer doing?"
"Fine," Donna said, wiping at her eyes. Both of her parents were also crying.
"Of course you are," Mom said with a laugh. "Now, let's go sit down. Donna, take off your shoes, you're getting mud all over the floor. Have you eaten yet?"
"Yes, yes, don't worry." Donna unlaced her boots and took them off, as well as her coat. Dusty sat by Dem's leg and had to be prodded to walk deeper inside the house.
Donna had known what to expect, but she was still awed by the living room. Photographs of her, Alex, and the kids and grandkids were on every available surface, interspersed with various awards of all levels, from Lars' and Laelia's highschool sports trophies to the professional awards won by both Donnas. They sat down on one of the couches, which, unlike the other, wasn't covered in cushions. On the table next to it was a small photo of Joel. His 'school' photo from this year. Joel had finally gone too far and ended up in prison. He claimed it was just like school, but you couldn't go home.
"So," Dad said, "what do you think of the world so far?"
Donna took a few seconds to shift gears from Joel to the world. "It's interesting."
"That it is," Dem said with a sigh.
One of the cushions began to move. Donna watched open-mouthed as it turned into a large cat, once black but now greying. It was Inky. The cat climbed down a stepstool onto the floor and looked at all of them. He padded over silently and lay down on his back in front of Donna, meowing in a demanding way.
"Of course the infernal creature wants belly rubs," Dem sighed. He leaned over to pet Inky, who began to purr, sounding like a hovercraft taking off.
Donna also joined in the petting, giggling at the softness. Dusty had very short fur, but Inky was a veritable cushion. "He's friendly," she remarked.
"He's mellowed with age," Dad said. "He's like me in that regard."
Dad was ninety years old. Inky at twenty-three was around the same age in cat years. They did look alike, even if Dad had no black hair whatsoever remaining. Inky meowed again, annoyed that she had stopped petting him. Once she resumed, he stretched out happily, batting his tail around. Inky gathered in his paws, looking like a blob with toothpicks sticking out. "What a demanding creature," she said. "Dusty doesn't even like being petted." Dusty was sitting next to Dem's feet and looking at Inky suspiciously.
"Dusty was mistreated for a long time. Inky grew up thinking that he had a constitutional right to regular belly rubs." Dad leaned over to scratch behind Dusty's ears. She seemed to shrink back, but then relaxed. "Though he didn't like most of us for a while. Laelia was his favourite."
"I know. In all the New Year's photos, she's got him."
Mom laughed. "She does, doesn't she?"
"He hated me for the longest time," Octavius reminisced. "When I was in highschool and trying to study on the couch, he'd plop that fuzzy butt of his on my physics notes and hiss if I tried to shoo him off."
"Ah, so that's why you did so poorly on that exam," Dem said lightly.
Octavius raised his hands in the air. "I'm not like the others. I don't take after Mom. You know, when I was in grade eleven, I applied to be head of set construction the next year - and got passed over in favour of someone a year under me. I wanted to complain, but I didn't want to seem overambitious."
"And a good thing, too," Donna said bitterly. She was sure it was no coincidence that her youngest was the one who had taken the least after her. Had she been passed over for a promotion, even at such a young age, she'd have exploded.
"Donna!" Dad exclaimed.
"What?"
He put his hands on hers. "Don't speak like that. Your children are all amazingly accomplished people no matter if they followed in your footsteps or not. I am very proud of them, and you should be, too."
For some reason, that was too much. She remembered the screams. The sickening joy of seeing her father smile when he read her report cards. "I followed in your footsteps. Nothing to be proud of there."
Octavius stared at Inky, clearly embarrassed. The cat had migrated to his lap and was lounging contentedly. Sensing her distress, Dusty rubbed against Donna's leg.
"Let's talk about this somewhere else," Dad said, getting up to his feet. Donna followed him, feeling like she was twenty years old and about to be scolded for her choice of boyfriend. She didn't look up to meet anyone's eye as she walked into the corridor and leaned against the flower-wallpapered wall. Dad stood a metre away from her. "I wasn't a very good father," he said quietly.
"No," Donna said insincerely. "The kids all love you."
Dad shook his head and sighed, suddenly looking every year his age. "I am a good grandfather, but I was a terrible father. I shouldn't have pressured Alex so much. I knew he didn't want to be an engineer. Knew it before he even knew. And you-" He sighed again. "I know you wanted to make me proud."
"That was all I ever wanted," Donna admitted, tearing up. "I thought that maybe, if you were proud of me, you wouldn't be so angry at Alex. I heard you arguing, and thought that you'd only love me if I was successful." It felt strange to say that to her father of all people, but they were both mature adults now, or at least they should have been.
"For what it's worth," Dad whispered, "I was always proud of you."
"I know." Once, he had missed an important meeting to attend her graduation.
"No. Always. I should have told you, should have made it clear. My love for you was not conditional on your school grades."
Donna shrugged, hunching in on herself. "Dem says he loves me despite everything."
A wan smile appeared on Dad's face, and tears trickled down his cheeks. "You picked yourself a good partner," he said. "I shouldn't have been so critical of him. Family is no indication of character." Donna flinched. Dad reached out a hand to clasp her shoulder. "Donna. I will be honest with you, I never approved of your career, and for what it's worth, I regret that I pressured you into a position where you thought it was a good idea. But you are still my daughter. Your legal guilt has been expunged, your moral guilt - well. You're an adult, it is up to you to decide your actions." His words were clearly paining him. "But you are still my daughter, and I still love you. No matter what."
"Uh-huh," Donna said awkwardly. She wasn't sure what to say. She wiped her eyes with a sleeve and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. It's always going to hang over me." She remembered the dust-covered workers in the underground tunnels, the figures twitching in their nooses. They had died because of her. And the children. How could she have ever worked for such a regime? It seemed completely absurd. "I don't know what to say."
Dad leaned over and hugged her. "You don't have to say anything. Let's go back with the others now, hmm?"
In the end, by the time they were finally able to continue the walk, it was growing late. Donna realized that she liked the lack of a proper schedule, even if it made her feel stressed. It made her feel adventurous, wondering what would happen next. Now, every single day would be full of surprises, and much to her own surprise, a little bit of unpredictability sounded like it would be fun, as long as she didn't have to decide what to do. Donna and Dem walked down the dark streets, Donna chewing endlessly on her father's words.
For dinner, they had tea and fruit. Dem took out a small container of frozen lingonberries and thawed them out as he explained how, exactly, had he come by a berry that couldn't survive Panem summers. Then, Donna called Theodosius, who sounded half-dead.
"How are you?" she asked.
Theodosius laughed weakly. "Terrible. That was stupid. I'm lucky I've got the best woman in the world as my wife."
"Convenient, because I've got the best man in the world as my husband." Dem smiled and took a sip of tea. "Will you be able to meet up tomorrow?"
"In my dreams." He fell silent for a while. "I'm sorry. I just don't feel well."
Irritated at her friend's stupidity, Donna could only sigh. "Of course you don't."
"Says you."
"If you tell Cynthia-"
"She already knows."
"If you tell my parents-"
"I'd rather drop dead." That was a relief. Her parents were not the sort to let something go just because it was twenty or, for that matter, forty years in the past. "Look, I really need to sleep. Let's chat tomorrow. Bye." The line went dead.
"Tell Cynthia what?"
"Uh, nothing."
Dem sighed. "There we go again. Why can't you just be honest with me?"
"It's stupid," Donna said defensively.
"Look, if you don't trust me with the little things, what kind of a couple are we?"
Donna took a sip of tea. "I don't want you to think worse of me. Really, it's stupid. Someone smuggled in alcohol, I got drunk, it didn't end well."
Dem nearly choked on his laughter. "What, like in the good old student organization days?"
"I wish. Back then, I could party all night, crash on someone's couch, and wake up the next morning for an eight-thirty lecture feeling nice and fresh." Mom and Dad, of course, had thought she was studying at a friend's place.
"And that's why I don't drink," Dem said with a hint of gentle mockery, draping an arm over her shoulder. Had he always been so lean and muscular, or had this happened thanks to the jogging and weights? Donna wanted to hug him back, but something prevented her.
"How can you not hate me?" she whispered.
Dem inclined his head slightly and sagged. "How? How could I think worse of you when I lived with you for fifteen years? When I had to listen to them say these horrible things about you?"
That got through to her. Dem had read about the trial same as anyone else, and if he hadn't, he'd still have found out. But he still wanted to be with her. "But why?" she asked. "You know my sentence was just."
Dem took her by the hands. "Your legal guilt is none of my business. You were found guilty and punished accordingly - that's the end of it, as far as I'm concerned."
"You really don't care?"
"Let me be honest - I was always glad to not have to care. I was worried about intrigues, sure, but I was as shocked by what happened as you."
Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Donna didn't care. Dem was with her, at last. They sat in silence for a few seconds, lost in their thoughts.
"I love you," she whispered. She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He responded enthusiastically, deepening the kiss until they had to break apart, breathless.
"I love you, too," he replied, hands roaming under her shirt.
"Uh, how far do you want to go?" Donna asked. She ignored the voice telling her that this was a stupid thing to be asking her husband of forty years, especially in that hesitant tone.
Dem thought for a few seconds. "Why not all the way? I mean, if you want. I don't know if you're comfortable with nudity, or-"
Donna nearly choked on her laughter. "Of course I am! That endless 'undress, squat, open your mouth, pull down your lip, raise your breasts' - kind of hard to care after that." She paused. "Once I was told to pick up my labia."
"What? What did they mean by that?"
"No idea. I just kind of spread it out."
Dem rested his hand on her thigh. "In any case, I'm sure I know better about what to do with that particular body part," he said with a salacious smile.
"Prove it," Donna said flirtatiously, trying to ignore the sudden choking anxiety welling up inside her.
"Great!" He paused. "Though I don't even remember what part goes where. And I think I need a shower first." He paused again. "Actually, you go first. I need to clean up. And find the ED meds."
Of course he had bought ED meds in anticipation of her return.
Donna took her fastest shower ever. It wasn't even a real shower, as she had washed in the morning, but a quick rinse. She brushed her teeth carefully. No need to have bad breath when she was going to have sex for the first time in twenty-six years. She went into their bedroom, made sure that Dusty wasn't lurking somewhere, and sat down to wait. Unsure of what to do, she remained dressed as she sat at the edge of the bed, mentally replaying their greatest hits. They had been so young back then.
When Dem walked into the room wearing only a towel around his waist, Donna's eyes nearly fell out of her sockets and her breath sped up. He had definitely gotten in shape recently, those shoulders were perfection. When he took it off, she thought she was going to fall over.
"What?" he asked, looking at himself. "I'm not anything to brag about." He put the towel down on the bed and took a large container of lube from a drawer. Donna hadn't even thought of that. "Have I changed?" he asked tremulously, looking her in the eyes.
With shaking hands, Donna took off her own clothing. "Of course. You're even more perfect now."
"How does that make any sense?" He was looking at her with adoration.
"I don't know. But you're perfect." She pulled him down so that they were sitting next to each other and embraced him tightly, feeling the heat of his body. "I will ravish you," she whispered in what she hoped was a seductive voice. Her hands roamed around his back. "I have wanted this for so long. I kept on imagining all sorts of crazy scenarios, but this is so much better."
"Yeah," Dem whispered back as she kissed him on the neck. "Same."
"Lie down," she said. "I've thought about this so much. But you're so much realer than I thought." She lay down next to him, trying to reach every square millimeter of his body.
"Er, I'm glad?" Dem put a hand on her thigh.
"I could drown in your eyes," Donna whispered, putting her forehead on his.
"Maybe we should talk less?"
Donna kissed him, more intently than ever before. This was a whole lot better than lying on her cot and daydreaming. Then, she kicked herself for thinking about prison while literally about to have sex. Dem trailed kisses down her body, massaging her thighs with delicate yet strong fingers.
A/N: Aaaand...scene. Let's give them some privacy ;) (and also keep this from going too far beyond the ostensible T rating)
Poor Sooyen now has yet another person telling her to dress better. Parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and great-grandparents alike conspire to get her into something not resembling a sack. In case you're curious, she dresses like that because she's hypersensitive and finds everything except loose sweatpants and T-shirts uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Donna Jr. and Daeho never understood that, so she doesn't see the point of explaining it to Donna, who would actually get it, thanks to her familiarity with Holder and his various special needs.
It has occurred - Inky appears on page! Donna is actually mistaken when she estimates his age as being equivalent to that of a 90-year-old human - according to Wikipedia, the formula for an adult cat is 4(cat age) + 16, which in Inky's case is 4(23) + 16 = 108. What do you think of the geriatric ball of floof? Bestest cat ever or simply the best?