Adrienne settles in at "home"

With a victorious fist pump, Charlie hopped and cheered, startling poor Adrienne half to ****. He apologized at least three times while the two of them exchanged cell numbers. Though it was still a bright, sunny day, Charlie had other arrangements for his afternoon and had to bid Adrienne good day. As she'd told him before, her apartment was just a short walk from Pen Square, so she politely declined a needlessly short ride in his fancy car.

Charlie and Brian both insisted that Adrienne didn't need to pay for her latte. With an adorably huffy pout, she relented and thanked them. The boys gave each other a thumbs up, glad to see someone else looking after their now mutual friend as Charlie walked her back up to the front of the store. He jumped into his car and gave Adrienne one last enthusiastic wave before finding a spot in the flow of traffic. Adrienne waved back a little, befuddled by the man's bold vigor.

"What a fucking stud," Clara moaned from behind the counter. Adrienne whirled around, pink in the cheek from Clara's words.

"Clara, honestly...!"

"What? He's hot. You don't want him, right? Is he single? Did you ask him?" Each question came out faster and higher-pitched than the last, the impressive swell of Clara's bust wobbling as she leaned. What good was her bra doing if she couldn't keep those things under control? "Can I haaave him?" The way Clara's big, brown eyes smoldered under those springy ringlets of blond hair put a lump in Adrienne's throat.

"That... is between you and him. Ask him yourself."

"Aww, why ya gotta be like that, babydoll?" Clara pouted in excess, fluttering her eyelashes just to get a snicker from Adrienne. The petite girl shook her head, grinning.

"I have today off, so I'm going home. See you later, Clara."

"Bye, babydoll. If you've got more friends like that around, bring them in! Sit in the library next time!" Adrienne didn't answer, rolling her eyes and pattering out the door.

While the corner store Adrienne worked at was a pleasant, robust brick structure that had seen good upkeep over the years, she couldn't say the same about the dingy brick-and-concrete slab that was her apartment building. Rust crept under the chipped black paint of the stoop's unnecessary handrails, matching the quality of the flaking doors and window frames. One of the gutters was falling off the side in the alley, but since it didn't have room to go anywhere, it just uselessly leaned against the adjacent building, loudly pouring water onto concrete on rainy days.

Just past the front door was an aged staircase that plunged through the center of the foyer and wrapped upward to more floors. A few decades ago, everything must have looked regal and sophisticated. Now with plaster cracks, worn scuffed lacquer, and crunchy-sounding AC, it was just another neglected corner of downtown; a relic of better times.

Analogous to Adrienne's life, from her perspective.

Climbing the creaky old stairs to the second floor, Adrienne fumbled with her few keys on the ring until she opened a door marked 202. The inside of her living space was just as bleak as the outside. Scraps of old wallpapers clung to the corners by the ceiling, some left to hide forgotten cracks. The "vintage" kitchen stove was older than Adrienne herself; not worth the risk. Gordon had bought her a small microwave, which was the only appliance that got any significant use. A thrift store couch and coffee table were the only furniture around save for a small bed shoved into the corner.

Bleak, cramped, and dusty... but cheap. Adrienne knew her living arrangement was abysmal, but it felt better to stay in a terrible apartment than continue to tax Gordon's good will. He'd insisted that she could stay longer, to take her time and get her bearings after everything that happened, but he failed to fully mask his relief when Adrienne found not only a job, but an apartment within walking distance. It couldn't have been easy for him to cover for her, still being in college and having his own heavy workload to deal with. She loved him for trying, but Adrienne was determined to lie in the bed she'd made for herself.

Hours later, Adrienne took that train of thought literally with a long yawn and a stretch. Rummaging through an open suitcase-made-wardrobe for her pajamas, a low buzz alerted her to a new message on her phone. A smile crept onto her face. "That must be bubby, checking in again." Before trading one set of baggy pants for another, she grabbed her phone to take a peek.

'Hey, this is Charlie. Just wanted to double-check the number, make sure you're doing okay :)'

Aww, how nice. And unexpected! Exchanging numbers was one thing, but Adrienne wasn't sure if she should expect anything to come of it. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she replied quickly.

'Hello again, Charlie. Got the right number. Doing well, thank you.'

Before hitting send, Adrienne studied her message. Was that too formal? Too indifferent? Most texts she sent that weren't to her brother were just questions about shift schedules and swaps with her coworkers. When was the last time she messaged a friend? Better add a smiley face at the end like Charlie did, just to make sure she doesn't come off as brusque.

Luckily, that did the trick, and soon the two of them were diving right into getting to know each other. Charlie didn't ask much, not wanting to overwhelm the girl he'd just met; simple stuff, like opinions on food and clothes. Adrienne seemed much more open and composed when chatting through a phone, happy to have someone to talk to. Finally, she thinks of a question of her own.

'Would it be rude to ask what you were like before TTP?'

When "read" popped up on her screen and Charlie didn't immediately answer, Adrienne worried she'd crossed a line. Before she could finish typing up an apology, her phone buzzed again.

'It'd be easier to show you. Can I send you a picture?'