It's cold in Washington.

Her heavier coat is stuffed at the bottom of her suitcase, so for the most part she just stands at the collecting point, shivering, while she waits for her case to roll round.

It's pretty early in the morning - the sun was just beginning to rise when she got off the plane - and more than anything she just wants to sleep.

(Except now it'll be in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar apartment with a - slightly - unfamiliar person living in the room next door.

She's gotten used to falling asleep to the sounds of Inspector Spacetime through her bedroom wall.)

She finally spots her case and lugs it off the movie belt, apologising to the several affronted business-men around her, and speed-walks away, into the direction of her new ("temporary, temporary, TEMPORARY!") life.

She checks the room number twice on her cell before mustering up the courage to knock.

The door swings open in less than a minute - thank God they're punctual - and reveals a taller girl with messy brown hair and crumpled day-time clothes and a wary smile.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah, it's fine." She has a distinct Pennsylvania accent.

Annie adjusts her backpack strap on her shoulder, and wonders whether it's socially acceptable to just walk into your new home or to wait to be invited.

"Oh!" The girl realises her dilemma, finally, and steps away from the doorway. "Come on in."

"Thanks." She gives her a grateful smile.

The apartment is surprisingly nice, considering the cost of the rent. The doorway leads into a hallway, with cream walls and an out-of-place watercolour of a flower hanging on the wall. The living area/kitchen is next, and it's… Clean. Not exactly homely, (and, wow, she never thought she'd miss the tacky wood panelling on the walls of Abed's old place, but-) however, it's nice. Minimalist. A couch, TV, some shelves. A fridge, an oven, stove, microwave, freezer. Basic.

"That's my room, there-" The girl - Victoria, she remembers from the well-worded Craigslist ad - gestures to a door across on the right side of the main area. "-And there's yours, I guess." She points to the twin door, on the other side.

"Um, do you mind if I-?"

"No, sure, go ahead."

She pulls her suitcase over to her new room, and carefully turns the doorknob, pushing it open. It's a little stiff. The room is like the rest of the place - white-walled, with a crisp-looking double bed in the centre of the room, a couple bookshelves on either side of the door, and a rickety bedside table.

"Do you need anything?" Victoria pokes her head around the doorway.

"No. Thanks, though."

"Cool. I'm going for a nap, I'll be up in a couple of hours."

Coolcoolcool.

"That's fine." She shoots her a pleasant smile, watches her leave, and waits and respectable amount of time before shutting the door.

Even though it's basically torture, she leaves everything unpacked until the next morning.

(Before going to bed, she spends an inordinate amount of time thinking about home.

Thinking about AbedandBrittaandFrankieandChangandElroy. Even TroyandShirleyandPierce. The ones that got away, although she guesses she and Abed are in that club now, too.

Thinking about acertainsomeonewhoisdefinitelynotJeff.)

(2) unsent drafts

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composed 5:23

TO: Jeff

missing everyone already

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composed 5:39

TO: Jeff

i hope you're handling this better than i am

Sometimes - though not often, not anymore, not in at least a couple of years - she likes to replay all their Moments over in her head, back-to-back, as if it's a cheesy TV montage.

She starts with her second week at Greendale, with milady?milord and charming Winger grins, and a cardigan buttoned up to her throat. It's a nice memory, mostly because she knows he remembers it, too, unlike a lot of the others.

Then comes dia de los muertos. Her surprise at the fact that he had asked her to dance. Not Britta, not Slater. Not Shirley, who she would've guessed would be his next choice. When he held her hand, just briefly, just enough, her breath hitched. He might have noticed.

And then there's what Abed would call the turning point. Debate. Although, she doesn't really think of it that way. It wasn't the most important or the most world-changing of them all. But. He kissed her back. Seriously. He…thought about her…too?

From that, it gets more complicated. Because there were plenty of little things, stolen glances, tiny smiles, caught gazes. But even though they're pretty insignificant, overall, she likes to count them.

And then, The Dance. Outside, in the Greendale Community College parking lot, with Duncan's terrible rapping buzzing in the background. It was possibly the least romantic place to be kissed, like that, in the world, and yet. It's either her favourite memory or her worst, she's really not sure which.

Model UN. "…or, the way I feel about you." His words floated around the forefront of her mind for weeks afterwards. Even though his admittance speech was punctuated by the terrible, awkward almost-kiss at the end, it's still nice to think about.

Of course, playing house with him was always fun. He might like to think that she was the only one who did it, but. What was the ass crack bandit case all about? The conspiracy theory class? She's glad he goes along with it. Or, used to.

And, as of a week ago, she now has another Moment to add to her collection. Their finale in the study room. (Although it's really more of a bittersweet memory.)

When she wakes up, some 2 hours later, with the sun filing through the shabby wooden blinds, it takes her a second to remember where she is.

Her cheek, pressed into her pillow, feels sticky and itchy with dried tears.