Damaged Goods

She woke up feeling worn out.

Her roommates were gone, to work or they hadn’t made it back from their adventures or something, right now she didn’t care. There weren’t in the apartment, and she meant to take advantage of it.

A swooning warble came from the radio as she laid slices of bacon in the hot frying pan, and heard the small sizzles and grease pops. Two eggs, cracked into the leftover fat, and toast, too browned, because the toaster’s dial had been broken for months.

After eating, and a shower, she crawled back in bed, but didn’t sleep.


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