Warning: Drunkeness
Purple
Harry is alone in the bar.
Even in a room full of people, she is alone.
This is nothing new. She tosses back more wine as she watches the people around her, laughing, talking, and smiling. They have a reason to be here – to socialise, be with friends, catch up.
She's just here because this is where she always is. It is the only place she ever comes to get away from the dingy, quiet flat.
"Another drink?" the barman asks, and she nods. Drink away the sorrows, that's what they say, isn't it? It is so much easier to pretend they're not there than have to deal with them.
She always seemto choose easy over right.
And as her thoughts begin to swim as the alcohol begins to creep into her blood once again, like it has done every day for the past three and a half months, she is vaguely aware of somebody taking a seat next to her. She turns.
She smiles and Harry notices what a lovely smile she has, lighting up the whole of her face. And slowly, her other features begin to register in her mind. Sparkling eyes, the colour of honey, and chocolate brown hair that spills over her shoulders. And then purple – lots of purple. An amazing purple dress, hugging her figure in all the right places, so stunning I just want to look at her forever.
She is beautiful.
"Hey," she grins at Harry, and she copies. "Hey."
"I'm Clara." She sticks out her hand.
"Harry."
-:-
The time has flown, and now it is long past midnight. There aren't as many people here now.
Harry is vaguely aware of how the two of them have grown quite loud, how their laughs fill the room and every now and then one of them will topple off one of the stools with a bang. But that doesn't matter to them. I suppose you could say that they were a little bit drunk.
"So …" Clara slurs. "We will have lots and lots of babies, some of them mine, some of them yours, and the father will be … George Clooney."
"Isn't he a little bit old?" Harry giggles.
"Nah." Clara rolls her eyes. "Doubt it."
"And when we get married …" Harry adds, "You should wear purple."
"Like now? What I'm wearing now?"
"Yeah. You look … amazing." She forces emphasis on the word, then smiles.
"Awww, thanks. A purple wedding it is, then."
Harry is dimly aware of the fact that the two of them only met three hours ago, and everything around her is swaying, and the music seems a little bit too loud, and that she is so pissed she probably doesn't know the way home. But I don't really mind.
She just likes talking to her, in that beautiful purple dress.