@gravewalks ♡
The bell dings! – though she’d wanted a moment alone more than anything this morning (just five minutes!), out of all the familiar silhouettes that could be inside the elevator already, this is one of the better options. “What’s the youngest children are allowed to go to jail?”
She steps in, her heel clicking just as she likes – it’s all in the small comforts. It’s honestly a miracle she’s made it out of the house at all, with the night of crying because the stuffed elephant (Rupert? Herbert?) wasn’t ‘stuffed right’ even though that stuffing had been the same for fourteen months.
Not to mention there hadn’t been any grapefruits for breakfast and no, God forbid any other fruit dare make its way into Rose Weissman’s plate. Not even orange, which is practically the same. “Three, it has to be three. The famous terrible two? Very soft foreplay. It should be illegal for them to be out any time before five.”
She takes a deep breath, the perfect scent of unnecessarily overcleaned carpet making her feel better already. Back in civilization. A smile, and she’s ready to turn to him. “And yes, good morning, Percival.”
