ANNABELLE WILSON // OUTSIDE OF THE LUMPY PUMPKIN
âIâm so tired of winter. I donât like freezing my ass off. I donât like wearing twenty layers and feeling sweaty and cold at the same time? I mean, what the hell? That should be illegal. I want strawberries. And watermelon. I want to eat ice pops on a cement stoop without feeling like my fingers are going numb,â Maybe coming to town at all had been a mistake - she shouldâve stayed in Nevada, where the concept of winter hardly existed. Sheâd take her seventy-degree days over bundling up to go outside.
âI mean, I guess the hot chocolate is worth it...â They swirl the mug in their hand while standing outside of the Lumpy Pumpkin, which had been a welcome break from the cold, bust still not enough for Annabelle to be satisfied. âI mean, itâs even sunny outside, but I sure as hell donât feel warm in the slightest,â They even go as far as to glare up the cold sun that had seemed to betray them.Â
With a huff, she glances across the street to ensure no cars were passing by, and then begin to cross. Unaware of her own footing, however, as soon as she clears the street, her feet slides on an icy patch where the gutter and the sidewalk meet. She slips directly into the crosswalk sign, then falls to the concrete ground. âOh god --â She usually sticks her landing, after the few classes of gymnastics her mother had snuck her into. Annabelle manages to pull herself in a sitting position over the ice, but when she gets a look at her twisted ankle, her worry becomes more apparent. âWell...that doesnât look so good...â
@salemstartâ













