Gracie Abrams is eking out a solitary existence, fighting day-in, day-out against the drain of working customer service and nursing two newborn kittens in her off time. Out on her own ever since her sister moved in with her boyfriend, the burden of...
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Bella's apartment was a sunny orange yolk, decorated with deep brown wood that looked right at home on a ranch house. There were shelves, shelves, and more shelves. Behind one bookcase, I saw shelves sitting in the wall. Bella had so many shelves she had to hide some of them. Why? For posterity?
In the bathroom, I reflected upon my sorry self. I didn't know how mummies could bathe effectively without becoming some kind of melted plastery mess, but my current state was absolutely inexcusable. Not for the chat I was envisioning.
What did one wear when they were breaking up with someone they weren't dating?
I didn't have a lot of options, but I noticed clothes sitting on yet another shelf and figured they might be for me. After a strenuous bath where I learned how flabby my stomach muscles had gotten—guess slinging 40-pack waters into trunks wasn't the workout I had glorified in my head—I unearthed the various clothing items.
Frog bikini underwear, pastel purple basketball shorts, and a vest that buttoned in the front. The bizarreness of the combination was offset by my sudden urge to take Bella's bathroom scissors and cut off my frizzed-out ringlets.
I wanted an outfit to look my best in an uncomfortable confrontation, and I supposed I couldn't ask for anything more off-putting.
Hobbling back to where a slew of comforters and pillows made the living room look like a secret hideout for a family of raccoons, I was met with the same view as before I'd left. A sock-less Kakashi in a loose tee, letting his long fingers become chew toys for rambunctious kittens.
Bella's furniture sagged decrepit into the floor. I thought I'd never get up if I attempted to sit there, so I awkwardly dragged a chair from the dining table taking up half the space. To his credit, Kakashi did not help me. If he had, I wouldn't be responsible if I threw a crutch or a chair or a fist at him.
But when at last my butt hit the seat, and I breathed in a deep sigh of relief, he appeared on the floor in front of me.
"You should keep it elevated," he said, looking up at me.
Half of his spiky head had risen to a standing position, though it obviously wasn't on purpose. A sleep imprint sectioned his left cheek, where that closed eye allowed the scar to lightning down in uniformity.
"I'm not getting up again right now," I snapped, like a child, only for his response to not be something sane like, "I'll go get one." No. Instead, it was:
"Just use me."
With stunned silence my only response, Kakashi took that as an act of agreement. Hable and Sintar clambered up his giant shoulders as he scooted back, sitting so that his bare feet touched flat against one another. Only now did I see the ankle braces that straddled their heels. Ghostly white skin poked through, teasing almost, as it contrasted with the deep black of the fabric. Even now, he had kunai hidden on his person.
