Why, Cedi? She thought to herself, putting her bowl in the microwave. Why make ravioli at 10:10 at night? This is late for you.
She closed the microwave door, setting the timer for three minutes as her small blonde dog, Moxie, lapped water out of her bowl near her feet.
It's only 10:10. She countered against herself, waiting for the ravioli to get warm enough to eat, watching her second dog, Charlie, almost fall of the living room coffee table as he attempted to drink from an abandoned cup left there; the single kitchen light casting a dark shadow across the living room and leaving him nearly invisible. It isn't so late.
But why? She countered again, her logical and tired self arguing with her hungry self. You've been hungry for hours, why didn't you come downstairs at eight, an acceptable hour to make dinner? The microwave timer went off. Carefully, avoiding burning her hands on the now hot bowl, Cedi took her once canned ravioli out of the microwave. She turned and face the mirror on the opposite side of the room.
Still balancing the piping hot bowl in her hands, she flipped herself off, almost dropping the bowl and burning herself badly.
Because f-ck you, that's why. She thought, turning off the lights and heading upstairs to eat her ravioli, alone.
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Fangirldom, a randomness book
RandomCurrently a randomness book. I cuss a lot. This is technically a follow up to Welcome Fangirls (the cringe) but it's a lot more chill and random thoughts and mostly shitposts but hopefully we'll both have a good time.
