[kaylor] mirrored;

parlez-vous français?

When she gets home, she strips out of her snow-trodden clothing and lets out a content sigh once she's swaddled in winter pajamas and blankets. She'd always taken to curling up in the windowsill, laptop balanced on her knees, seated just above the heater that was situated underneath the glass panes so she could look out onto the busy New York City street. Taylor found the craziness of the block below pleasantly disorienting; like when you are seated in a car, but you can see the world outside you speeding by, and you are safe and quiet. 

She's only alone for a few minutes when she hears the door lock turning open, and then her roommate steps inside, similarly freckled with the melting snow as she was a few minutes ago. "Hey, Mar," she calls out from the window, twisting her legs over one another to place her feet on the ground.

"I fucking hate men," Martha grits out, throwing her parka coat to the side of the room hard enough for it to resound with a loud thwap, leaving Taylor to raise her eyebrow. Now that Taylor is closer, she can see the glower in Martha's eyes and the sharp scowl that paints across her face. "Do you think they realize how awful they are, Taylor? Because I don't want to admit that they're just barbarians stumbling around this god forsaken earth, but I think they are," she says fast.

"Sounds like you need some lady-lovin'," Taylor replies, earning a disgruntled face from her roommate.

"Taylor, you're hot and all, but I'd never." Martha says politely, confused as to why Taylor's suddenly blushing red. The younger girl starts waving her hands frantically, shaking her head along with them.

"Oh, my god, no! I didn't mean it like that. That came out so wrong. I just mean you need to... like... hang out with your girlfriends for a while, y'know? I mean, girls. That are friends."

"Aren't you supposed to be all artistic and poetic? Work on your wording, Taylor," Martha chides playfully, approaching her bed before she turns to face Taylor and falls backwards, body splayed out on the mattress. "Can we do something tonight?" 

"Mm, we could. I finished my paper for Friday and the only real work I have is some sketches and reading for lit," Taylor says, more as a checklist for herself than for Martha. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't want to go out. I'm feeling horribly anti-outdoors right now." 

Taylor nods slowly, checking off their options. "Okay," she says, extending the 'o', "We can stay here and watch some movies like we used to in freshman year," she suggests with excitement, practically bouncing on her heels. Back when they were just newbies, trying to navigate living and studying in New York City, they'd pen up in their room and tear through three or four movies a night when they had to cram for a test in the following days. It was more background noise than anything, but so many good memories for Taylor were created in those times.

"That'd actually be perfect. D'you think anyone else wants to come?"

Taylor grins deviously. "I could invite Cara and Jour, but I doubt they'll pay attention to the movie that much." Martha groans into the crook of her elbow which has laid itself across her face.

"Invite the lovebirds anyway, the more the merrier," Martha blinks at the ceiling, pondering some ground-breaking thought. "Hey, your birthday is really close, Tay. Like, two weeks from today."

Taylor nods, a wolfish smirk on her face. "Yup. I want to have a huge party with everyone invited. Like you said, the more the merrier," she repeats with mysticism. Martha props her head up on her fluffiest pillow and observes Taylor sitting on a bar stool by their kitchenette. Taylor recognizes that hopeful, wondrous glance. It's one she's seen in every single one of her friends that have known her for years now. She starts to inwardly cringe, the distaste for the incoming conversation bursting within her.