Fresh Wounds

Morning Tea

Inhaling the steam from her rapidly cooling tea, Arabella daydreamed. It was November, snowing for the first time since March, and the crisp air made her shiver slightly. Still, she refused to close the window. Instead, she reached for an old grey sweater. It was familiar and the scent alone caused the memories to flood her mind. Her girlfriend... ex-girlfriend used to borrow it all the time, her short torso enveloped in a garment that was even big on its owner. Arabella chuckled to herself as she remembered. She didn't remember Phoenix so much anymore, but it was one of those lazy days where she had little else to do. In a way it was pathetic, Phoenix had probably erased her from her mind by now anyway. Arabella idly brought the mug to her lips and tried to think of happier things.

~

Phoenix paced back and forth in the snow, scarcely dressed. She'd only had time to grab shorts and a baggy tee before leaving the apartment. Now she lingered by the gate of Arabella's rental house, questioning the events that led her there in the first place. She forced herself to lift the latch and cross the threshold, but stopped at the steps and sat, crossing her arms to try and conserve what little warmth she had. There had been no plan, no money, no ride. All Phoenix had was an address and the faint hope that Arabella remembered her. She slumped against the wall and waited to be found, lacking either the strength or the courage to ring the bell.

~

Stirred from her dazed stare, Arabella noticed a trail of footprints. Assuming the postman had arrived early, she hurried downstairs to pick up a parcel she'd been expecting from her grandmother. Flinging open the door, she gasped. Tea and porcelain sprayed everywhere as her mug made contact with the concrete. "You..."