you are what you are

she wanted a drink but she had 30 minutes to make a commute worth 45 and a lucrative deal waiting on the other end. not to mention it was 8AM. she felt a piece of her slipping, careening out of control, but it was not the piece that said don't start drinking at 8AM. she placed the ring back more gently than she meant, into a soapdish that had never held soap... yet another destiny unfulfilled in this house... then turned and left the bathroom, jogged up the stairs to the third floor - the "second storey" she reminded herself. what a farce, what a focking farce. "second storey". he was from goddam pittsburgh, for crissake. pittsburgh. she grabbed her jansport and looking to the dresser for her keys, finally realised what else he'd taken and knew for certain then that he wasn't coming back.