Suddenly unnerved, Grace starts to get up. "Whatever, ya know. I shouldn't have asked. It's not important." She stands straight up and strides off across the lawn. Her face is hurt, it had taken a lot to ask Joan in the first place. "No, wait! Grace!" Joan calls pathetically from the steps. Grace, pretending not to hear, shoves her hands deeper into her jacket pockets and keeps walking. Joan tries to stand to chase after her, but the blanket trips her feet. By the time she untangles herself, Grace had already disappeared. "Great." Her perfect night was spoiled because Grace was mad, or upset likely, at her. Grumbling, she rests her head tiredly against the porch fence post. "Perfect. I would have gone. I will go! Why didn't she wait!" Her mind is already occupied with the strange wondering at why Grace had suddenly decided to have her ceremony, a ceremony that Grace had put off for the last few years.
"Sometimes people are hard to sort out, Joan." A voice drifts over from the neighbor's yard. Oddly enough, a man was standing with her back to her, watering his front flowerbed. At 11:00 at night. Joan lifts her head to determine where the voice is coming from, but lets it fall with a dull thud against the post with a groan when she figures who it is. "Two times in one night! Gosh! Give me some peace of mind why don't you!" She shouts halfheartedly over her yard to him. Giving her a stern look, Eccentric Neighbor God continues. "I have my reasons Joan. Grace is going through a tough time in her life. She has to decide who she is, who she will be for the rest of her life. And she has to make a decision about where her love lies." Looking over at her, His eyes shine, as if he'd just given her a precious clue, a piece of juicy gossip. Luke…, she thinks automatically, then shakes the impossible thought out of her head.
"Her love! Grace has made it clear she doesn't ever want to get involved in the L word! Who could that be?" She asks, disbelieving. Shrugging at her, He smiles. "Anything can happen Joan." He says. Touching her head with her fingertips, Joan groans. "God, I cant do all this. I'm still sorting things out with Adam!" She looks up, only to find God gone. "Maybe a TINY break!" She yells angrily at the sky. Shrugging the blanket off her shoulders, she wraps her arms in it. She heads towards the door. Turning the doorknob, she sighs. When will I ever get used to the fact that there would never be a final assignment?! She thinks angrily to herself. Inside, there would be a whole other set of difficulties.
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Waking up to light streaming through her window, she rises to look out. Gray clouds were receding, and the grass was wet from a night's rain. The sun was shining brightly through the clouds, and it warmed her face as she stood by the window. She watches Adam down the street come out of his door. She laughs slightly. Adam had gotten up early, ready already, to work in his shed. He must be working on something. She thinks, wondering fiercely what it was. She checks her clock by her bed, reading the glow-lite red numbers solemnly gazing back at her. It was an hour before she was supposed to be awake, she realizes happily, ready to climb back into bed. Tucking herself back into her bed, she sighs contentedly. After settling for a few seconds, her eyes flash back open. Exasperated, she flings her covers back up, tripping over various items hiding under the clothes strewn on her floor. She opens her closet, wondering what she'll wear. Remembering yesterday's events, she throws on her favorite clothes and dashes out her door, stopping in front of the hall mirror. Caught off-guard by her reflection facing her from the glass of the mirror, she takes a second to arrange her hair. Sighing, she drops into the bathroom to finish her new morning routine.
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Adam, in his shed, thinks. His head was filled with new ideas for his art, thanks to Jane. His lips smile at the thought of her. All the hurt she had given him, how he had felt when he found her trashing his art that one-day… He shakes his head. She was worth it. Worth everything.
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Staring deeply at herself in the mirror, Joan is finally satisfied. She must have changed her makeup three times, but she was ready. She shuts off the light and skips quietly down the stairs, pulling on a coat. She opens the door, looks out, and then closes it. At a sudden thought of her parents, she scribbles a brief note about being at Adams and sticks it on the fridge. She strides over to the door, resting her hand gently on the door handle without opening it yet. She takes a deep breath. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Joan whips around. Luke stands on the stairs, his foot suspended in mid air over the bottom step. Staring at her, confused, he attempts to ask something. "Adam's." Joan says calmly, before turning abruptly and stepping out the door without waiting for his answer.
The morning is cool, but nice. Pink clouds drift aimlessly in the sky, waiting for the sun to join them at their noon height. Joan strays over to Adam's shed, pausing at his door. She peeks around the corner, not wanting Adam to know she was there yet. She smiles, he was smiling. She edges around the corner, waiting for him to notice her. Adam was close enough to her he could smell her fresh shampoo smell. He jerks his head up, wondering why he was imagining her being there. Curious, he stands up, turning around to face her. Joan smiles nervously. "Er… Hi!" She says, thinking it lame to say good morning straight out. "Hey…!" He replies with a smile, looking down shyly. He transfers something from his hands to the table behind him, looking guilty. "I was just…" Joan makes gestures with her hands, jerking her arms around in an attempt to explain that make Adam smile. "I just saw you come out here. I thought…" She wrings her hands, unsure of what to say. "Its ok! I was just thinking about you, Jane…!" He says, the word Jane sounding as if he had thought about her all morning, which he had. "Come sit down." He gestures towards a chair, and as she stumbled forward, hugged her. She smiled at him, her eyes teary. He resumes building his art project, inspired that Joan was watching.
