It was dark in Wren's fourth floor apartment. It had only been a week since her accident and she still felt a bad as ever. With a bandage wrapped around her forehead she sat up ever so slightly to sip her sleepy time herbal tea. She looked around her apartment which was normally clean as a whistle, with her stainless steel, state of the art kitchen, and furniture bought straight from the cover of a magazine. Everything seemed to be set up as if staged for a show. But now, after a week of being on bed rest, her kitchen was filled with dirty pots and pans, and the living room was now essentially her bedroom because it was much closer to the bathroom.
She leaned back on her sleek grey couch that she was much to big for and closed her eyes. For a moment she forgot where she was, she forgot about her concussion, and she forgot about the situation she has found herself in. All this was interrupt with a loud knock on her wooden door, and the pulse that came with a growing headache. "Go away," she managed to shout.
"Ummm... yes, uh hi. I'm Gage. Uhh Gage Wallis from err umm Southern Living... Uhh we're doing a umm piece on errmm towns making a emm comeback. And ummm we are focusing on eem people living ahhh emm in the ermm Victorian." Wren rolled her eyes in unision with her body as she got out of bed to answer the door.
"I said go away" Wren reached the door hoping it wouldn't make the annoying squeaking sound it did whenever she opened it, but it did, it always did. And it just added to her headache. "Listen, um, George was it? I have a really bad headache, which I think should be pretty obvious what with the bandage. So please leave." She began to close the door but just when she thought she was in the clear, Gage jammed his foot into the door.
"Its umm Gage, and I ermm don't mean to be disrespectful but I umm really gotta get this done. I've already ummm screwed up with err the umm makeup team I was ahh supposed to be ermm going around with. I umm already got yelled at errrr today. I emm have a boss who ermm is umm a little crazy." He looked at her with sparkling green eyes. "Please don't let me get yelled at again. I'm not cut out for this pushy magazine job." It was the only sure thing he had in the past 2 minutes of interaction
Wren flung the door open, "How about a glass of wine and we can salute to shit bosses." Wren slowly shuffled to the kitchen as Gage quickly entered afraid she would change her mind. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable." Wren walked into the living room and plopped on the couch handing Gage the glass of wine, she raised her bottle of ginger-ale. "Here's to bosses who make you work with a concussion," she looked at Gage, "and to the bosses who make you bother those concussed people." She sipped from the bottle, "So Gage, what can I do for you?"
"I umm just need to errr ask you some ahh questions." Wren leaned into him. Gage noticed her face turning green and suddnely heard the faint noise of her stomach churning. "Go for it. Give me your worst. No questions about the bandage."
"Ummm what err made you emmm come live here?"
"Skip that one."
"Errr okayy... Umm what is the best thing, umm about life errmm... here?"
"I have lots of time to think. Next."
"Ummm well, ahh... Where do you work?"
"Down at Empire Offices. Gage you get one more question."
"Errr umm, what do you umm plan to errr do with your emmm future in this umm town?"
"Well Gage. That's a good question, and I would love to answer it but I'm afraid I'm pregnant and I have to go throw up now. Feel free to finish your wine and see yourself out."
And with that Wren shuffle-ran to the bathroom and shut the door. Gage sat on the couch unknowing what to do, listening to the sounds of a lady he just met puking her guts out.