Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Reaching up, I flattened my crazy hair, then slid the locks, and pulled the door open.
"Hi!" she cheered, smiling openly, a bit too happy for... well... any time of the day. "I'm Auddie, from across the hall," she explained, waving toward her door. "I'm sorry to interrupt your hangover, but I wanted to introduce myself finally, so you didn't think I was being rude. It's just... when we first moved in, everyone stopped over that very day, and things were crazy and disorganized, and it was not the way I wanted to entertain company, y'know? With the house full of boxes, looking like a disaster area. So I figured I would give you a few days to settle in before I came over and bugged you. I brought rum cake!" she announced, making my attention go down to see a plate in her hand. "I didn't intend for it to be the hair of the dog, but this kind of makes it kismet, don't you think?"
I worked with a lot of young, excited professionals. I thought I understood people who talked a lot. This woman, she put them all to shame.
"I'm Sloane," I offered, giving her what I hoped was a kind smile, even if it was forced. Because I saw this for what it was. An opportunity. If I was going to live here - and, really, I had no actual choice in the matter - then I needed to be open to making connections, friendships, normal things.
"So, what were you drinking about?" she asked, moving forward, letting herself into the apartment without an invitation. "Alone on a Tuesday night, I believe that is usually indicative of man trouble, yes?" she asked, casually going through my kitchen drawers and cabinets until she found plates and utensils.
"Several," I offered, watching as her head jerked up, eyes dancing.
"Oh, juicy!"
"Not really," I said, shaking my head, feeling a little bit of the weight of the morning lift off of me, finding her energy a bit infectious. "I had a boss that hit on me, then made my life hell when I turned him down."
"Ugh. There's always one of those in your life, right? The perv boss? Mine was when I was fifteen. He tried to put his hand up my skirt. My daddy found out, came in, and poured scalding coffee on that hand."
I smiled at that, wondering how nice that must have been. To have a father who cared like that.
"But you said men. Plural."
"I'm, ah, trying to..."
"Ah, say no more," she said, handing me a plate, holding up a hand. "Asshole ex. I know that one well. Trying to get away, start over. Me and my girls, that was why we came here too. I mean, we're only a few counties over from my asshole ex, but it's away. It's nice here," she added, going into my fridge to pull out the milk. Something about that was so sweet, so pure, so... mom-like, that I almost wanted to cry a little as she poured us each a glass. "I know it's hard when you first start. Everything is different. And different sounds good at first, until you start missing how they made pizza in your old town better, and how you miss the stores, the sights, the people. But you'll start making new favorites here too."
"Yeah," I agreed, nodding. "That's true. I haven't given it much of a chance yet."
"There's this... oh, wow!" she stopped short, putting her plate down with a careless clatter, moving out of the kitchen space, and into the living room area where my small dining table was set up with my easel on top. "You did this?" she asked, turning back to look at me as though I was some famous artist or something.
"Oh, yeah. It's not finished, but..."
"It's amazing!" she cut off my attempt at self-deprecation. "I wish I could do this. My sister can paint. I was always so jealous of that. But I was better with words, so at least I have that."
"You write?"
"Well, not really. I make up books for my girls. To teach them relevant things that I notice they are interested in. I print off pictures online to put with them. It's hideous actually," she said, smiling back at me.
"I could draw some pictures for you," I offered, shrugging it off. "I'm between work right now. I could use something to keep me from going stir crazy in this apartment."
"You're serious?" she beamed. "That would be so amazing! Oh, I'm so excited. I will drop off the pages later today if you want. That would be such a cool surprise for them. I bet I could get Billy down at the print shop to make me some actual books out of them too. How cool would that be? For them to see their mom's name on the front of a real-looking book? And your name too, of course," she added with a smile. "Illustrated by Sloane..."