   Head still reeling from the events of the night before, Rose had spent the last day restless —-and a bit of a mess. She’d come home, a few drinks too deep by the end of the celebrations, and felt the weight of it all hit her like a brick to the back of the head. Suddenly, everything felt out of place; her clothes were organized in all the wrong way, her bed against the wrong wall, the curtains the wrong colour. She tore her clothes down, pushed the bed across the room, and ripped the curtains from their rod. The rational part of her mind added that as another fee for her to pay, but that was far from her most pressing concern. The night had gone well, she thought, moreso than she’d expecte. She made a few friends, got a free drink out of it, and was offered a free meal —-tonight, she thought. Far too soon. She wouldn’t go.
   It all fell apart in front of her when Lukas showed up. She didn’t know what to do with herself after that, how to process her emotions, and meeting up with someone for dinner was likely to blow up in her face given the state she was in. She’d be cruel, she imagined, or throw whatever meal was put in front of her across the room and give horrible offense. Worse still, she’d cry.Â
   No, she absolutley couldn’t go.
   She sat on the edge of her messed bed and time passed with no concern for her. The sun moved through the sky, glinted off of her daylight ring from every angle, until it kissed the horizon. A bird, then, flew straight into her window. She blinked, and looked outside to be reminded that, if she was going to change her mind about dinner, now was the time. She went through the motions of showering, of doing her hair, her makeup, putting on her clothes —-but her fingers grasped the first things she touched, her mind stuck on one thing alone. She looked at the clock once she realized there was nothing left to be done, and realized she was already late. Shit. She hadn’t sent a text to say she wasn’t coming, hadn’t told the charming, generous recluse that she’d be late... Shit, shit, shit again. Fine. She’d go.Â
   When she made it to his place, tucked away in the woods, just like he’d told her, she was a fashionable twenty-seven minutes late. With a sigh and the hint of a forced smile, she knocked.
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