Abby
My apartment is dark when I finally get home tonight. It still smells faintly of
fresh paint from the new coat that my landlord put on, but I can still sense the
lingering scent of smoke, too.
I decide to avoid the harsh glow of the kitchen lights as I plop the wine glass
that’s been tucked under my arm onto the counter island, followed by the bag of
takeout food that I picked up on my way home.
It’s still warm, the grease beginning to seep through the bag as the faint smell of
garlic and onions permeates through the air. On any other night, I might be
delighted to dig in; but honestly, I have no appetite tonight. Even the thought of
Enter title…
food makes me sick after everything, after all of the failed dishes. But I know I
need to eat, and if I don’t, I know I’ll regret it later.
For a moment, I dig through my cupboard for a plate and some silverware, but
eventually decide to opt out of the plate.
The cork gives a subtle pop as I open the wine. No glass, I decide. Not tonight. I
take a swig straight from the bottle, the sharp taste of alcohol momentarily
cutting through the numbness. It’s a start.
I crash onto the couch, the plush cushions a welcome comfort after being on my
feet all day. The TV flickers to life with a soft buzz a moment later, and I navigate
in a
much time passes. Hours,
cheap movies, cheap wine, and even cheaper
today—the truffle dish, the disdainful look in Logan’s eyes, the
with Karl—keep playing
movies on the screen.
to myself
pathetic now, especially when I was so sure
just that I lost, either; it’s that I was humiliated
were had,
were ignored.
laughingstock. Hell, I might even
out of
go there tonight. I can’t even bear to glance at my
be barraged with a chorus of sympathies that will
want to hide my
bottle of wine finally empties. I don’t remember finishing
proof. Groaning, I push
and shuffle into the kitchen, where another bottle waits for me in
make my way
standing in the doorway with the second wine
that I hear it: my wolf’s voice,
back of
to wallow in misery, or are you going to keep
forward?”
is like a slap to the face, or a rush
It takes me completely by surprise in my current
bottle slips from my grasp, wine splashing onto the
and nearly fall onto the
kitchen for a
I say out loud as I grab the towel off of
and dabbing it into the carpet before
“Now I’ve spilt wine
Abby?” My
Update Chatper 251 of Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story
Announcement Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story has updated Chatper 251 with many amazing and unexpected details. In fluent writing, In simple but sincere text, sometimes the calm romance of the author Jane Above Story in Chatper 251 takes us to a new horizon. Let's read the Chatper 251 Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story series here. Search keys: Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story Chatper 251