Itsy-bitsy teeny-weenie chapter...sorry 'bout the month-long delay between this an' th' last. Blame idiosylph's "The Big BrotherHood Program."

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Even without windows, the sound of the new day seeped into the bedroom from outside. Gabby whimpered pitifully and buried her face in her pillow, wondering how late she had slept in. Had she missed her first class? 'Ah, screw it,' she decided, through a haze of pain. 'Ain't no way I'm goin' ta class t'day.' Her head felt as though her skull had suddenly grown twice its normal size without bothering to inform the rest of her head. She groaned miserably and wondered if dying would be less painful.

When she finally dragged herself out of bed and wandered into the main room, it was past one in the afternoon. Blearily she stumbled from the bedroom and headed for the kitchen, feeling the need for the strongest cup of coffee ever brewed by man. She saw a shape sitting on the couch and the events of the previous night came trickling back.

"Mornin' Todd...sorry 'bout last night." She blinked a few times and her vision cleared.

"I'm not Todd." Zoey was sitting on the couch, holding Gabby's sketchbook, a slightly worried expression on her face. Gabby cocked her head, still feeling somewhat fuzzy.

"'You stayed th' night?" she slurred. Zoey nodded.

"Got up about half an hour ago. You know we missed Drawing 315, right?"

"What a bloody shame," muttered Gabby, walking toward the couch and looking around. "Where's Todd?" she asked at last, her brow furrowed. Something wasn't right here. He'd only been here a few days, but she was pretty sure that she should be hearing him fumbling around in the kitchen, or swearing up a blue streak in front of the computer or something. Zoey bit her lip and wordlessly handed Gabby her sketchpad. She took it, confused, and stared at the page in front of her for a few minutes, the words scrawled messily in between scratched out doodles not making sense, even after she'd read them.

'Gabby'

--(there were several scratch-outs beneath her name, as if the note had been started numerous times) 'Thanks for everything. Really. I'm sorry. About last night and all. Look...'(more scratch-outs) 'I don't think...' (this was struck through). 'I borrowed ten bucks out of your purse. I'll pay it back, I swear. I just-' (scratch-out) 'I have to go somewhere. I WILL' (underlined) 'pay you back. For everything. I'm sorry.' (The next line was nothing but half scratched-out phrases: 'I should te-' 'I wi-' 'I'm so-' 'I lo-' followed by a large frustrated scribble, as if the writer, tired of his inability to communicate in writing, had taken it out on the paper.) ' I'll never forget everything you' (scratched through 'mea-') 'did for me. Thanks'. ( more scratch-outs) 'I lo-- Lo-- Si-- ... Take care,'

(something scratched through that looked like it started with either an "M" or an "H")

'T.'



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Good Lord, I wrote something under 500 words...almost. I think I'm gonna have a heart attack. Next chapter: we get to see some solo-styled Mortie. Heh...