(no subject)

May 01, 2006 23:58

Miss Pfannee -- the lovely Miss Pfannee, the fashionable Miss Pfannee, the always very presentable and desirable Miss Pfannee -- is on the verge of a breakdown.

She's sitting in her room--a drab room, halfheartedly decorated by flowers and lavender curtains--alone, as she almost always is these days, and she is having some sort of revelation. Not a truly profound one, perhaps, but a very real and frightening one.

She is not a young woman anymore--pretty, still, but not young--and she's just begun to wonder where exactly the years have gone.

She looks at herself in the mirror and has no idea where she's going, what's in store for her in the years to come.

She hasn't planned for this. She isn't prepared. For once, she has a problem that can't be solved with a little makeup or a withdrawal from her inheritance fund.

She'd like to go home, but she has no idea how. Besides, she expects there's not much waiting for her there, either.

So for now, she just curls up on her divan, pulls a gauzy blanket up around her shoulders, and stares out her window in a hopeless, pathetic, desperate sort of way.
Previous post
Up