Memory Lane
By Voleuse

Rating: G
Improv: #45 cinnamon--dust--leather--sway
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish they were. It's Joss' universe.
Notes: Takes place during "This Year's Girl."

The door is locked, but a sharp twist of her wrist fixes that.

Fear of her, or him (certainly not the police) haskept thieves and ladnlords out, and the apartment is much the same, except for the layers of dust.

The tears in her eyes are from the coughing, she tells herself, adjust to the denser atmosphere.

She steps further inside, the leather of her (stolen) pants skimming against a tabletop. She isn't usually this clumsy.

There's a note on the table, from him. She's read it before--he sent it to her the day before (it all ended).

He sent her a plate of cookies, too. She can almost taste the cinnamon-sugar of theme, but she can't remember what he called them. Something stupid, suburbian.

On the table there's also a frame, a photograph. Of him, and her.

She turns away, and sees her stereo. Clicks it on to some moldy-oldies station. Almost changes it, but doesn't. The song is familiar.

(She heard him humming it once.)

For a second, she closes her eyes, hugs herself, and sways.

For a second, she remembers.

She mourns.

FINIS