(no subject)
Angela picks a table out of the main flow of thing tonight, dumping her bag and her coat into one of the chairs unceremoniously.
She doesn't take anything out of the bag -- her thoughts are too jumbled to draw, the phone won't ring here. (Not that it rings much at home right now; at least, not with calls she actually wants. At least this way she can blame the end of the universe's lack of reception.)
She ordered a bottle of whiskey and a glass, but for the moment they're both sitting on the table untouched.
Angela sits and doesn't really look at anything in particular, and turns the diamond ring on her left hand around and around and around.
She doesn't take anything out of the bag -- her thoughts are too jumbled to draw, the phone won't ring here. (Not that it rings much at home right now; at least, not with calls she actually wants. At least this way she can blame the end of the universe's lack of reception.)
She ordered a bottle of whiskey and a glass, but for the moment they're both sitting on the table untouched.
Angela sits and doesn't really look at anything in particular, and turns the diamond ring on her left hand around and around and around.