Queeny heard keys rattle in the locked door and groaned. How long had she been asleep? Was Caspie home already? The door creaked open and a gaggle of metal was dropped sullenly on the desk by the door. The slam of the door forced Queeny to blink her eyes open. Bright lights hammered into her eyes and forced a groan out of her lips.
Caspie’s footsteps receeded down the hall before Queeny could figure out which way was up. Struggling to sit up, a flailing arm hit a half empty bottle and liquor spilled onto the carpet. Her throat burned, and a vague memory of Urtha appearing with a bag of homegrown haha surface. Ashes, she knew haha made her sleep, if only she had accepted the fairy ice that Urtha had proffered after she’d lit the joint. Through her pounding head she found the direction that gravity pulled her: down. And rolled off the couch.
On her hands and knees now she tried to get her stomach under control. “Caspie,” her voice was so hoarse the name came out as a wheeze, “Capsie, I’m sorry.” This time her voice carried down the hall. Precise, clicking, steps answered her words. Queeny screwed her eyes close at the piecing noise. It was always beneath that woman to take her blasted shoes off. These ones sounded like the blue heels Caspie loved so much, the ones that scuffed the wood in the hallway. Queeny loved to rip the shoes off Caspie before she threw her in bed.
Shuddering, Queeny yanked her thoughts back to the present. She craned her neck to see Caspie shaking her head as she furiously punched a text out on her phone. Caspie’s lips were moving but Queeny couldn’t make out any words, she tried to crawl forward and realized the carpet around her was soggy with the spilled alcohol, and her thoughts drifted away again. The liquid seeping through the knees of her pants was so cold, gooseflesh ran up her legs. She experimentally flexed a hand, finding it completely numb.
“Queeny!” The word was a shrill as a fire alarm. “I’m leaving and you’re not even listening to me. Hallows, you’re more of a mess than even Quarter knows.” Queeny sat back on her feet, finally meeting Caspie’s icy stare. She had such pretty eyes... and she was grabbing her keys and turning out the door. Caspie paused, staring out into the dark hallway beyond Queeny’s apartment. “You know Queeny, you need to learn that your actions actually affect other peoples emotions. If you don’t you’ll push even Quarter away.”
Then she was gone. Queeny stared, dumbfounded, at the door. It closed with a quiet click, since Caspie knew how to twist and pull the handle just right. The automatic lock slid closed thirty seconds later and snapped Queeny out of her stupor.
She considered finding her feet, dousing her face with some water, and struggling after Caspie to plead her case. She couldn’t have gone far, she might even only go as far as her old room at the Canry. Queeny could check there first. This was the last time, really. She would clean everything up tomorrow, she would go out and buy new food, she would cook dinner, throw out the empty bottles, wash a mountain of dirty clothes; she would fix everything.
Instead, she crawled back onto the couch and curled up, her clothes damp and reeking. Her eyes slid closed and her mind drifted away, but a bone jarring chill seemed to follow her into her sleep.
