The Camera Never Lies| ON HOLD

The part where I confuse genes, with jeans

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Writers block has been a constant predator recently and I've just got back from a holiday in Wales! Their accents are just, gahh. I can't get over how cute their accents are.

You, you enchant me

I spy a bench in the square, and I immediately dash over to it. I swing my legs over and retrieve my bag from the floor- where I dropped it when I made the executive decision to run to a bench and pig out on Ben and Jerrys cookie dough ice cream. In public.

Yum. I'm spooning the last few scoops in to my once ice cream deprived mouth and I feel slightly better.

Although, Gray still hasn't replied to my texts. After earlier I'm concerned about our friendship and I'm worried and, elated?
Despite Gray storming off and clearly being pissed of at me I'm still reeling over the revelation that Gray likes me.

Maybe I'm overreacting, but could he mean it in a like, like way? Damn, I'm replicating every female protagonist in all 90s/2000 teen films.

However, Rosalinds words are still imprinted on my brain. Her words were so scary and shocking. I didn't know she was as troubled and, maybe,oppressed as she appears to be.

Pennbadgley square looks nice in fall- the trees that are dotted along the perimeter have orange leaves  and are swaying in the soft breeze.

Instead of walking back to the apartment and dwelling on today's debacle, I decided to text Natalie and inform her I was going on a shopping trip. I still didn't have all of my belongings although Lily had assured me she would try and bring me some of my crap.
Natalie gave me some money and practically begged me to go spoil myself.

So now I'm sitting in the big apple in a little square, right in front of a doting coffee shop. I'm balancing a relatively empty ice cream tub on one knee and my bag and phone on the other.

The realms of the internet have beckoned me in to their hovel and I'm scrolling down instagram.

I couldn't resist the temptation to look at Abbie, Beth and even Rosalinds instagrams. Abbie's insta is full of pics of her with celebs, Will and Beth and Rosalind.  Beth's insta is full of pics of coffee and Christian Louboutins. It's Rosalinds insta that concerns me. One solitary photo and it's of her and Beth and Abbie. They're in a Nordstrom judging by the sign reflected in the mirror. Abbie is applying lipstick, Beth fluffing up her hair with an arm swung around a happy, hopeful Rosalind.

They're like slices of a cake, made together and with each other.
Something took a knife and carved right through the thin layer of frosting. Decapitating the cherry on top and obliterating the sprinkles.
That photo was a rare instance, a fragmented memory. A moment that Rosalind cherishes. A moment that she hopes for again. Their friendship and what once was has tied Rosalind to them.

"Excuse me honey, but may I ask you where you got your stunning genes from?" A tall, beautiful woman is standing before me. I automatically sit up and cross my legs- uncurling myself from my cramp-inducing position.

She appears authoritative but a southern accent filters from her rosebud lips. She has strawberry blonde straight hair. Her hair is flecked lightly with barely noticeable grey. Her eyes are green and filled with warmth and intrigue.

And she asked me where my jeans are from.
"These old things?" I say gesturing to my jeans.
" They're American eagle, quite comfy actually but nothing expensive"
I add the last bit because as free spirited as this mid-40 year old woman appears to be, she is decked in a white maxi dress, brown wedge sandals and a flowery kimono.