Humming idly (Ensorra, Bright on Fire), Anna enters her apartment and flops down on the couch. It was a good day at work - she never has bad ones, really. Now it's time for some good old-fashioned alone time with Larry Niven. The Ringworld Throne may suffer from mild sequelitis, but it's still a good read.

After leaving Clark and Jasmine...

Anna's at home. Or at least at her apartment.

She wants to read, or listen to music, or do something normal and-- liveling-like.

She can't.

The shaking kind of prevents it.

It's an ordinary day at work.

Except for the part where Anna gets a raise, but she knew that was coming. The boss has been radiating grudging respect and approval for weeks now; it was only a matter of time.

Still, it's more or less an ordinary day at work. Certainly not a day where Anna'd expect anything remarkable to be happening. Oh no. Never

Ice cream.

Van Halen.

Larry Niven's Ringworld.

Comfortable couch.

Yeah, it's good times in Anna-land, all right.

Anna leads Clark through a handy-dandy Nexus portal into her living room.

The front door to her apartment is looking distinctly unwell.

In the way where the doorknob is lying crumpled on the floor, dented with what appear to be finger-marks.

The cat lady who lives in the apartment just above Anna's is, by now, used to seeing funny lights outside the window ( Read more... )

Anna rarely checks her mail; there just aren't that many people in the world who send her letters ( Read more... )

Quite a while ago, Eight-Hour Chainsaw met a boy. There was sex, dating, torture, woe, and love, all in the wrong order. She started calling herself Anna, and rediscovered what it's like to be alive. When you're dead. ( This sucker's gonna be long eventually, folks. )

It's Sunday, which means Anna has a day off today.

This is good, because after helping herself to some free flowers last night, she's... shall we say... disinclined to get up.

Incapable of it, one might say.

She's also running quite the fever, and it's rather lucky all things considered that people in comas are not, on the whole, given to

( meme blatantly stolen from Clark Kent )