The Man who Sold the World

London, Present.

The night was cool and small rain puddles from earlier in the afternoon splashed up as Lena Oxton ran down the pavement of the sidewalk. She wore long athletic leggings and a long sleeve shirt, but the only thing that would grab anyone's attention was the bulky glowing metal device that was strapped to her chest. It was good to get out and stretch her legs after a long day. After all, being in the driver's seat of a helicopter every day didn't necessarily give one the chance to stretch out too often, but more importantly, now that she was out of work, it was good to not have to hide the Chrono Accelerator underneath a baggy zip up sweater.

It was strange, like hiding in a cocoon every day and hatching from it every night, but for the money and the hours, she couldn't really complain. On the contrary, although not necessarily anatomically correct, the big bulky device hiding underneath the baggy zip-up used to make the lads at the office almost think she was pregnant, and kept them all at bay for a while. Almost as like she had already been taken.

Taken…

Well, there was no use in pretending anymore, in a few weeks, she finally would be. It was hard to really grasp it all, but it was true. It had been so much work to get to this point, but it was almost over, and then a new chapter in her life would begin.

It was at that moment that Lena's mind drifted over to her other bother, Angela. It had been awhile since she had called her. For as much as Lena wanted to sit in a room and stare angrily at the phone until she called, her life was just too busy to do that. So, she had to put it on the backburner and slowly forget about it while she contended with work and last minute wedding planning.

Emilee may have been right, maybe she should try to call again and apologize for confronting her about this and try again, but still, she was disappointed that the doctor hadn't given her the courtesy of a call yet. Even if she had hoped that she was wrong, she had an inkling that Angela would be a problem, which is saying something when one of her guest was going to be a genetically modified gorilla. Still, it didn't make it any less frustrating.

Lena arrived at her apartment building and immediately went to the block of mailboxes on the wall beside the entrance. Finding hers, she opened it and saw that it was already empty. That meant one thing, that Emilee was already home. The English woman closed the box and made her way to the elevator and hit the button for the correct floor.

The first sign of trouble came after the announcement of their engagement. Angela and Lena had risked their lives for each other countless times during their service in Overwatch. It was natural for Lena to give Angela the honor of standing by her side at the altar. Still, Lena didn't know why she was surprised when Angela declined. Granted, she was now living in a place far away, and she should have known that a high caliber doctor like Angela would have a very busy schedule. But, with the more it was brought up, the more uncomfortable things would get. She should have known that the regrets would be coming, but she needed to know it for sure, to hear it from the doctor herself for it to be right. She just… she didn't think that Angela would act like such a diva over it all.

Lena tried to be on her best behavior, Emilee had warned her that escalating the situation would only make it worse. Sure, Lena had tipped more than her fair share of fedoras in her youth, and debating over the Flying Spaghetti Monster was her favorite pastime in her angsty teen years, but Angela was also a friend and she couldn't forget that. The urge to chastise her over her silly book and beliefs wasn't going to win in the end, but Lena needed to find a way to show how important this was. She just couldn't figure out why the doctor couldn't see that Lena wanted her there to share in one of the most important days of her life with her new fiancée. She just didn't think that, of all people, Angela would be so… hateful.

She shook her head. No, that wasn't the right word for it. Lena knew what hatred was. If Angela truly hated her for what she was, she wouldn't have gone out of her way to help her, rescue her, heal her and comfort her when she was in pain over all of these years. She wanted her to be at the wedding, as an act of honor and respect for all that they had been through over all of these years. Didn't she see that?

Lena didn't really know what to call it. For as smart as Angela was, she was just so… backwards.

The elevator door opened, and Lena exited out to the hall and walked until the door to the flat was in sight. She stopped in the middle of the hall when she noticed the door to the residence was opened a quarter of the way. She thought about it for a moment, alarmed at the oddity, and slowly snuck her way to the opening. The only other time she remembered Emilee leaving the door open like that was when she snuck outside to have a fag.

Adjacent to the doorway, Lena's eyes shot wide open when she recognized the sound of Emilee sobbing inside. Not sure what to expect, Lena slowly pushed the door open and stepped in.

The lights were on, the home was still in the same condition that she had left it in before going out on her run, and Emilee's shoes were set beside the door. Everything looked fine, and Lena slowly followed the sound of Emilee's voice into the kitchen. There, she saw her fiancée.

Emilee was a thin woman, although raised in England, she had Irish ancestry, present from the freckles across her face. She had short auburn hair, and having just gotten home from work, she was still in a white blouse and a pencil skirt. The oven was on and leftovers were sitting on the stove, waiting to go in when the temperature was right before she had gotten distracted by something. As she was now, Emilee was leaning against the counter with a cellphone up to her ear.

As Lena had heard, Emilee was sobbing, one hand on the phone while the other was against her mouth, muffling her cries. Her cheeks were red as tears rolled down from her eyes.

"No… Papa, You don't have to… She wouldn't want you to give it away…"

There was a response, and then Emilee shuttered as she smothered another sob with her hand.

"You can be there, it's not too long now. George, Garret… I'm sure they can all help you when you need to get going. Please, it would mean so much to me…"

Emilee looked up, seeing Lena standing in the kitchen. She wiped her eyes and gave a silent acknowledgement that she was there, but didn't speak. It was then that Lena noticed that their mail was spread out on the table. As always, Emilee had sorted it into neat piles, wedding things in one pile, bills in another, junk in another, and even a letter for Lena in another, but what grabbed her attention was an opened box and message that was closest to Emilee.

Emilee left the room, retreating to the laundry room and leaving Lena in the kitchen. Without hesitation, Lena took a seat at the table and inspected the box.

What she first saw were two matching jewelry cases, one was opened, and inside of it was a solid golden ring. Spread open with the package was a piece of paper, it read;

"Little Emmie,

When the fog around my memory lifts, I think of you and how much you remind me of your grandmother. She would have just been beside herself when the news came that you were finally getting married. I think of Suzie, and it reminds me of a promise she made me make a long time ago, and so before my mind fades again, I must give this to you.

After the accident, your grandmother made me promise to make sure that you received our rings on the day of your wedding. She would have wanted you to have this, just as her grandmother had done before her, and her grandmother before her.

How I wish that she were still here, to see you on your special day, to see you in your dress, as beautiful as the sun rising over Cliffs of Moher. I wish from the bottom of my heart that my old eyes could see for one last time, to watch you walk down that aisle like your mother and grandmother before.

Love you always and forever,

Papa. "

Done with her phonecall, Emilee reentered the kitchen. Immediately, Lena stood and embraced her soon-to-be spouse. The two held each other for several minutes, Emilee explaining what her grandfather had done, and Lena listening, even if she already knew. Having finally consoled her girlfriend, the two kissed. Emilee stated that she was going to get changed, but before going off to do so, she mentioned that there was mail for Lena. So, as Emilee left the room, Lena took a seat once more and took ahold of the letter that was addressed to her.

Years earlier…

"Spread your legs, please."

Lena, like a soldier at attention, did as commanded. Through all of the time that she had been laying breadcrumbs, trying to slowly cut away at Dr. Ziegler's independence and morals, she could never image that the Doctor could be so… upfront about something like this.

Sitting on top of a line of sinks in the restroom in a nightclub, Lena spread her legs out, allowing Dr. Ziegler to get closer and inspect her charge. Lena could joke and pry at the doctor as much as she wanted, most of it was lighthearted and fun, but that didn't change the underlying feeling that she had for her. Call her simple, but the truth of the matter was that Lena was just another one of the lads when it came to Dr. Ziegler. If being hypnotized by something tall, busty, leggy and blonde was a crime, then Lena was guilty as charged.

Nearly face to face, Lena was having trouble looking the doctor in the eye as they got closer and closer, but then jolted away as pain from her nose shot across her body.

"Hmmm… it definitely seems your nose is broken." Angela, gloves on her hands, turned her attention to her purse, rummaging through the items to find a bottle of pills and pouring four out, but then placing one back.

Peace talks were always so boring. Sure, it was better to make peace and not war, but having to stand around as bureaucrats wheeled and dealed the last details of an agreement was mind numbing to Lena. So, after one long day, Lena made plans to go out to a local club and let off some steam.

It was kind of funny in a way. The Chrono Accelerator could generate the same amount of power as a small nuclear reactor, but as long as nobody saw her perform a time blink or any of her other special abilities, people thought it was some sort of gaudy techno noir costume. Anyway, she happened to be breaking loose on the dancefloor when some pompous jerk flailed around too much, and then elbow met face.

After having recovered from the shock of pain, Lena took the offered pills as Angela sopped up the blood with a sanitary towel. "Well, why don't we just stuff a rag up there and go back out?"

"Don't be preposterous." She said, "there's no need to rush this. You'll regret it if it swells too much."

Lena nodded in silent agreement, but knew that there was more to it. Lena didn't want to go out alone, and at one point, it looked like everyone was going to say no, but on round two of asking around if anybody wanted to go out with her, Angela had reluctantly said yes. So, Lena wearing a miniskirt and ripped top and Angela wearing slacks and a sleeveless vest, the two went out to a nightclub and got to work. But, Lena felt a little uneasy on the inside. She wanted to go out and have some fun, but Angela just seemed content to sit at a table like she was too afraid to move. From the look of things, Lena was half expecting the doctor to start griefing her for wanting to go out and have a good time. Lena had left her behind at the table and had half expected her to have gone back to the hotel when she stepped off the floor after getting thwacked on the nose.

It was no surprise to Lena that Angela kept a miniature pharmacy in her purse. She was definitely one of those girls, the type that has a pill or rub for every ache, pain, clench or cramp, but still, sitting here like this was a little too awkward for her. She thought of something to break up the awkwardness and then said, "I see you were still talking to that one guy at the table. He looked pretty cute. I don't want to keep you away if you want to go back."

Angela rolled her eyes as she prepared her operation, "Don't worry," Angela said with a sigh, "I was looking for a way to get out of that conversation, anyway."

"Oh, really, what's the deal then?"

Angela gave a chuckle before saying, "I told him I was a nursing student and he was trying to get my phone number. He couldn't stop talking about himself. He apparently spends all day playing videogames and has people watch him for money. I don't think he caught the hint that it wasn't interesting at all."

"Ugh," Lena began, "What a nerd. Why didn't you try to get away? You know, use the dancefloor to lose him?

Angela sighed, "I've never really been to something like this before, I just… I didn't really know what to do."

"oh great, here comes the grief." Lena thought, before saying, "Oh, come on, you can't tell me you haven't gone out dancing before!"

Angela, now slowly beginning to apply alcohol to Lena's nose and cleaning out the nostril, confessed, "Well, I suppose there was a small holiday party once at the church near my boarding school when I was attending. Some boys from the local area were there as well. But, beyond that, no."

The statement made Lena quiet down for a bit, allowing the doctor to tend to her throbbing nose. She couldn't remember when she had learned it, but Lena knew that Angela was a Catholic. She would never admit it, but it made her on edge at times, thinking that she would do something or say something that would spark a confrontation. Sure, she was ready for that, but like ICBM's, her jabs and counterpoints stayed locked away in their silos, waiting to be used. She didn't want to fight, but at the same time, she felt that there was something that she needed to ask. "Doc, do you mind me asking you something?"

"Of course," she answered, slowly beginning to rub Lena around the bridge of her nose, causing small jolts of pain as the doctor worked out the break.

"How do you justify doing… this, you know? Going out and being a doctor when the church's teaching would have you be barefoot and pregnant?"

Angela, not interrupting her motions, answered, "Well, it's complicated. But I think I know how to describe it to you. There was a joke I heard someone say once. I don't really understand it all, but it goes like this; A man and his family lived in an area that was about to experience a flood. They received an evacuation notice, but he declined, saying 'the Lord provides'."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. The emergency workers try to get them out but he says no, men with boats come and he refuses, and finally when the water is so high that they're sitting on the rooftop and a helicopter comes to rescue them, he still says The Lord provides."

"Yes, that one." She confirmed, stroking slower and harder.

"You do realize that the man and his family die in the end, right? And that his faith was misplaced and that God sent the rescue, right?"

"Yes. That is correct." She began to push her fingers hard against the swollen tissue around Lena's nose, causing the pilot to wince as she tried to pay attention.

"So, what does that mean for you, then?"

"Simple," Angela answered. In that moment, she jerked her hands to the side, moving the bridge of Lena's nose and resetting the entire structure with a sickening crack. Sitting on the sink, Lena doubled over in pain as her airway cleared. She held her nose, catching the escaping blood from her reopened septum as the smell of alcohol filled her nostril. Cleaning her patient up, Angela finished, "The Lord provides."

Present…

It had been a long day, and as soon as Angela had gotten home, the shoes went off and hair tie went with it.

It was late, and although tired, it wasn't time for bed yet. She walked around the living room and turned on the lamps before taking a seat at the large sofa. The lamps lit the room, but kept it dim and allowed the shadows to stretch across the ceiling in a warm, calming glow.

Angela's couch was of a cream color and made from leather. Stationed before it was a wooden coffee table and a television in an entertainment center. The couch had a curve to it, bending it 90 degrees on one end while the other side had a seat that extended out around the other side of the table. The furniture store representative had convinced her that it was the best piece for a casual gathering or conversation. Sadly, in all of its life, the couch had never seated more than one person, but that didn't mean that it wasn't as comfy as described.

Angela slipped her legs over the couch and lay across the seats, resting her head propped up against the throw pillows at the curve of the couch. She could have turned on the TV, but at this point in the night she wasn't interested in flipping through channels in search of something to watch, especially when she had something else in mind.

Reaching into her black dress slacks, she pulled out her phone and opened the internet. Signing into Viewtube, she checked her recommendations and saw exactly what she was looking for. Lying on her couch, Angela began to feel the slight onset of hunger in her body. It was inevitable, she was forced to have a late lunch, and although she wanted to rest, having a full meal would be too much. To her fortune, she knew that there was a leftover gyro in her fridge. Surely that would work, but not just yet.

The video box opened, and the channel name as well as the title of the video read across the top as the teaser image loaded. When done, the title read, "Cassowaries are modern Velociraptors, by Wheelchair Zoologist". At first, it showed a blank white screen, while in the corner a very young man wearing a baseball hat appeared. As the video started, a line began to move on the blank screen, slowly beginning to draw an image, and so the man in the corner began to speak, "Standing at six foot six inches tall and having three razor sharp claws, you'd think that the Cassowary is much more dangerous than it actually is. My name is Mark Ramirez, and I am the Wheelchair Zoologist." The image then changed to the channel's logo while showing nature footage of the bird that would be the focus of the video.

Angela had changed the world overnight when she had completed and presented her research in nanobiotic medicine, it gave a much needed relief to humanity, who had already spent decades in the midst of the Omnic Crisis, seeing nothing but hard fought battles, casualties, and deliberating injuries from men and women in conflict zones around the world. But, now that the crisis was over, it was time to do more, and extend the reach of her gift to the world.

Snow Leopards, after seeing a resurgence in the early 21st century, were on the decline once more. Poachers had been hunting the great cats for their exotic and mesmerizing coats. The doctor had been unaware of the emergency until happening across a news article of conservation officers in Russia fighting to save one of the Leopards that had been wounded from poachers, but failed as there simply wasn't enough resources or knowledge in field to prevent it from succumbing to its wounds.

So, with a cleared schedule, and nobody else with a solution in mind, Dr. Ziegler stepped up to the plate and offered a remedy to the issue.

The blank picture in the background of the video began to fill with the long image of a stalk, taking form as a cursor darted around and began to detail the leg. The narrator began to speak once more, "Before a cassowary is born, the male is the one who incubates and cares for the eggs, for the female takes off and leaves a single dad to do the child rearing. Baby cassowary won't even recognize mom if they happen to meet…" the host looked away, showing an exaggerated expression of regret, adding, "… Can relate."

Dr. Ziegler's solution was much easier said than done. Although most of the groundwork for Nanobiotic medicine was already laid out, it only worked on humans and some species of ape. The technology was costly in a general sense, but the real struggle came from testing and researching the animal's genetic code. Simply injecting the medicine into a specimen was difficult for a variety of reasons. The most obvious being that simply adding a human based growth stimulant into a feline could be incredibly toxic. The second difficulty came from the simple truth that Angela didn't have as easy of access to test subjects as before. During the Omnic crisis, cadavers were readily available, and labs from around the world could reliably supply her with genetic samples to test variances in the human genome, but with an illusive animal with less than 200 specimens alive in the wild, it wasn't easy to test her findings.

The image changed from the host and the drawing to high resolution nature footage of a brown bird about the size of a chicken standing beneath its much larger blue father. Angela brought a hand to her mouth as she gasped at the cute little bird. "Baby cassowaries are incredibly playful and will follow their father around for about nine months, copying him and actually playing hide and seek in the rainforest every now and then."

Angela had already known what skeptics or critics would say, why waste so much effort on an animal when humans may be suffering from something different elsewhere? Why not this animal or that species? Why not try to develop another method or a completely subversive solution to the problem of poaching? People could lecture and prostrate or patronize as much as they liked, but she did what she wanted to do, and to those who were looking for help to save these wounded animals, she was sure they would be grateful for the assistance.

"They are the second heaviest of all flightless birds, second only to the Ostridge. Their natural habitat is the rainforests of northern Australia and Papua New Guinea. "

Angela kept watching the presentation while lying on her couch, her joints and extremities relaxing and sinking into the cushions as the furniture supported her weight. When she started researching into the Snow Leopard, she requested information from veterinarians, conservationists, and traditional resources. But, absorbing a mass amount of resources could take quite a long time, and as she just happened to look on the internet one day, there was a much quicker means to absorb the broad details of the subject. Still, after starting on this new project, she did not expect to be so entertained by watching a handicapped man that was only half her age talk about exotic animals that she had never heard of before on Viewtube.

The video showed one of the adult birds bend over and pick up a large blue berry on the ground, and then straightened its throat out and swallowed the large fruit, causing a lump as it left its beak. "Their primary food source is fruit, namely, the Cassowary Berry." Angela watched the display, and realized that she herself was getting hungry, so she may as well start warming up dinner.

She rose from the couch and entered her kitchen, as expected, the takeout box was waiting for her on the center rack of the refrigerator. She was about to pull it out when a thought occurred to her. She had been experiencing a craving, an idea rolling around in the back of her mind of something she wanted, but through better judgement or the struggle of the day, it had been sidelined by the time she was home. Standing in front of her fridge, she thought about it, and as she considered it more and more, it almost seemed as if the stars had aligned.

She closed the fridge and walked to the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. Turning both ways to make sure nobody was watching, she opened it up and pulled out a tall beer glass.

Returning to her fridge, she opened the freezer and pulled out a vat of ice cream. Returning to the compartment below, she opened the door and pulled out a bottle of chocolate sauce, and most importantly, a bottle of Coke.

Like genetics, it's the duty of a mother to pass down their family traditions to their daughters. Sadly, due to the tragedy in her life, Angela didn't have much of that luxury, but at the same time, but there was still one recipe that she had learned from her mother.

Uncapping the chocolate syrup, he poured a small dose of the chocolate into the glass cup, only stopping once the bottom was filled. Next, she opened up the tub of vanilla ice cream, almost completely untouched except for a small corner where a big scoop was missing. Using a spoon, she scooped out peels of vanilla and dropped it into the glass, the white fragments dotted with vanilla beans standing against each other and reaching up towards the rim of the glass. When done, she stuck the spoon in the glass and resealed the ice cream and chocolate sauce before returning them to their respective parts of the fridge.

Finally, she took the bottle of coke and twisted the cap off. What she had in her hands was not a generic bottle of Coca Cola. Instead of the recycled plastic and glued on sticker bottles that inhabited vending machines and drink coolers at every grocery store and cafeteria, what she had was the genuine article, the holy grail of softdrinks, the luxury sports car to the economy class minivan; genuine cane sugar, classic recipe Coca Cola from Mexico.

Part of the benefit of global trade, the glass bottle was cold to the touch, a much better conductor and insulator than a thin plastic bottle. The metal bottle cap, even if it was much more wasteful than the plastic reusable one of a modern bottle, felt more substantial and reliable than its modern peer. The crisp passage of carbonation and quick influx of air after the breach of its stamped seal itself was part of the experience as it's contents were readied to be consumed.

The bottle opened, and like a magical brew, the dark brown concoction within began to bubble. The warm air of the apartment rushed into the bottle, and upon reaching the insulated cold of its insides, began to fog up the clear glassware. The doctor let the beverage breathe for a moment, and soon afterwards tipped it in, filling the beer glass up with the dark nectar. There probably was a number of reasons why this specific drink was market as being from Mexico, specifically, the ingredients, recipe, or container. Although she treated it like a luxury item, the truth was that it wasn't much more expensive than its more generic counterpart; being a little less than a dollar more. Still, even if it didn't cost much more, the taste was exponentially better. With her concoction filled, Angela looked at the bottle, and saw that there was still a good portion leftover at the bottom, just at the thinnest point of the bottle's curve. Like finding a parking meter with time leftover on it, Angela's eyes lit up at the surplus in the bottle. Giving no heed to the idea of a diet, Angela brought the bottle to her lips and began to tilt.

Just like she had seen, the concoction was incredibly cold, but at the same time, the electric bubbling and snappy taste on her tongue felt shocking, almost warm to a degree. The rich coca flavor was mesmerizing and intriguing, her mind wondered how such a complex thing could even exist. The formula of taste on her tongue didn't even feel like it was of this earth, that the urban legend that the secret recipe was divided and protected by only two members of the Coca Cola board of directors was just a cover story for the fact that the real combination was actually found in the temple of an ancient civilization, and gifted to homo sapiens from benevolent visitors from the stars.

Glass filled with ice cream and coca cola, Angela put her spoon in and added a red and white striped straw to the mix, making it almost picture-worthy.

The video on her phone, which she hadn't been paying attention to, abruptly went quiet. Walking across the room, Angela looked on the screen, and as soon as she made eye contact, the face lit up, explaining the sudden interruption. She had a call waiting, and the name above the incoming number was Lena Oxton.

Dr. Ziegler took a quick breath to collect herself. Undoubtedly, Lena must have received her letter and this was going to be the rebound call. Hopefully, this time they could have a more productive conversation than last time.

She answered the call and put the phone up to her ear. "Hello,"

"Hi." The response went, but instead of a curt greeting, it felt more like an accusation, like whoever was on the other side of the phone was going to throw a punch through the speaker somehow. There was another voice on the line, someone else trying to butt in on the conversation but was being cut out. "So, you thought this would work, huh. Just trying to sneak your way out of this, huh?!"

Angela was confused, "Lena, I… what's going on?"

"Don't you try to play 'round with me. I got your letter today. The one with five large."

There was an interruption, the mysterious person on the line was repeating, "Lena, give me the phone. Lena!" but there was a hypersonic pop, a rush of air and then the sound of someone running. Angela always had a hard time understanding slang in the English language, so it took her the moment of struggle on the opposite side of the phone to puzzle together what Lena had been inferring to. Thinking quickly, she realized what she was referring to was indeed the letter she had sent, and "five large" must have been the check she had sent to the two newlyweds. Angela, due to her practice, was quite wealthy, and to be honest, she wasn't familiar with things like this. So she thought that it would have been a generous gift and hopefully would show that she cared.

Reality seemed to dictate otherwise, though.

Person #2 sounded like she was talking down a hallway, and then was cut off by an elevator closing. Soon after, Lena was back on the line. "So did you wrack that big brain of yours yet!" she demanded.

"Lena, I don't understand what's going on. Please,-"

"The check, you stupid twat!" she shouted.

The words cut like a knife, Angela, alone in her apartment, took a step back to collect herself. "Yes, what's wrong?"

"You gave me five thousand dollars!"

Angela sat in silence for a moment, thinking about what was going on, and then finally asked, "…Did I not write enough zeroes?"

Like an erupting volcano, the response was enough to shake the apartment, "I didn't want you sodding money! I wanted you!"

"I… I…" A tear welled up in the doctor's eye, her brain mixing languages together as she tried to figure out what to say next, but kept getting mumbled over how her very best intentions could be taken so poorly.

Before there was any more vitriol, it sounded like the elevator doors opened, and the mysterious third person was there. "Lena, give me the phone before you do something you-" there was another hypersonic pop and rush of air, the sound of Lena using her singularity powers to blink through her place in time and space. "Lena!" the stranger called out.

After a while of what sounded like running, the commotion stopped. What was left was the sound of Lena breathing into the phone. Trying to take initiative, Angela opened up by saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

Although still angered, but not explosively shouting, Lena replied, "Well, it doesn't matter anymore. You can cross the check out, because I'm gonna rip it in half."

Like a stake through her heart, Angela felt the pain as she slowly lowered herself onto her couch, her legs feeling weak at what she was hearing. "Please… You don't need to do that."

The mysterious stranger was approaching once more, saying something about "waking up the neighbors", but Angela couldn't really hear what she had to say. Regardless, Lena gave a quick response before hanging up the phone. "You don't have to come anymore. If you can't stand the sight of us, then go ahead and stay home, because I'm sorry I ever thought I wanted to have you here!"

The line was dead, but Angela sat for a moment listening to nothing. Slowly, she brought the phone down to her lap and watched the screen, tapping it to keep it awake as it would slowly fade to darkness and then return with a flick of a finger. She waited, thinking that Lena would call again, not sure if she wanted to talk more or not, but after ten minutes, it seemed that nobody was calling.

Then the thought occurred to her that maybe now it was her turn to try her hand at resolving the conflict. She tapped on her phone to see Lena in her contacts, but her finger hesitated before she could call. Why would she call her? She didn't even know what to say. Would she just sit there and take the abuse once again, or would she stand up, making the whole ordeal even worse? She didn't know what to do.

She began to pace, walking back to her kitchen when she saw the Coke Float resting on her counter. She gave it a longing look, but then turned away. The frosty treat would stay there overnight, untouched till morning when the doctor would rinse the soupy mess down the sink and throw the straw away.