Angie rises from the creaky motel bed and stretches until her joints pop, a low groan slipping out.
The morning light spills through the thin curtains, catching the dust that hangs in the air.
Today, she decides, is the day she finally calls home.
It's only smart to let them know she's okay—that she didn't get kidnapped or end up in a ditch somewhere.
But first, she wants to buy a few groceries for the road.
After washing up and throwing on a faded flannel and jeans, she heads downstairs to the lobby.
The smell of stale coffee and cleaning supplies lingers, a familiar comfort.
"Bye, Don," she says softly as the old man steps out of his office.
"Well, where you headed off to this morning?" he asks, his voice as weathered as his face.
"I'm going to buy some groceries for the road." She gives a small shrug and smile.
"Really? Then take this." He digs into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill.
"Oh, no, I couldn't take your money." She tries to push it back toward him. "You could use it for your business."
He chuckles, a sad kind of laugh. "Honey, this place isn't gonna be around much longer. Heck, I'm not even gonna be around much longer. Let me go out doing something nice."
The weight of his words settles in her chest.
Angie hesitates, then takes the bill and folds it into her pocket. "Thank you. I'll use it well, I promise."
"I know you will." He waves her toward the door. "Now go on, get your groceries."
Outside, the morning air bites her cheeks.
She walks to the little grocery store down the block, the kind with squeaky floors and a bell over the door that jingles when she steps inside.
She grabs a small cart and passes the produce section without a glance.
Fresh stuff goes bad too fast.
Instead, she drifts toward the shelves of packaged food—cheap, simple, long-lasting.
She picks up a box of granola bars, a bag of chips, a trail mix, and a pack of bottled water.
Her stomach growls, but she ignores it.
Survival first.
At the checkout line, a nicely dressed middle-aged man turns toward her with a polished smile.
"That's quite the display of groceries," he says.
"Yeah, I guess so," she answers, not looking up.
"Let me guess... you're going on a road trip." His tone is confident, a little too practiced.
"Yes, I am," she admits.
"Well, where are you headed?"
"Uh, I'm not really sure." Her eyes narrow. "Excuse me, who are you?"
"I'm Jack McCain. Nice to meet you." He extends a hand.
She shakes it, hesitant. "Angelica... Munson."
"Well, Ms. Munson, I believe today's your lucky day," he says smoothly.
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"Because I happen to be leaving for a road trip myself tomorrow. And wouldn't you know it—there's an extra spot for someone adventurous like you."
YOU ARE READING
Angelica "Freak Two" Munson
Fanfiction"Hey, Harrington!" she reverses against her heel, flipping him the bird, "The names Freak Two, actually. If you're gonna insult me, you might as well do it right." ---------- Angelica Beatrice Munson, aka "Freak Two" is Eddie Munson's younger sister...
