(no subject)
After settling on the idea of sticking around, Katie was introduced to an older woman named Sarah Jane, who gave her a key to a house she’d gotten off the bus down the street from. She’d greeted Katie as friendly as one could meeting a new neighbor, muttered something about not wanting to be a house-mother, and directed her to find an unoccupied room upstairs.
The bedroom she found was not as large as the room she and Owen had shared in their Cardiff flat. She would only be here for a day or two before she could find a way home, so Katie was glad she only had the two shopping bags she’d come with. That meant she could change clothes if she wanted (though one of the large bags also contained a few shirts, trousers and other things she’d picked up for Owen that day in Cardiff.) but she probably wouldn’t be here long enough to need to worry about laundry.
Tired, she put the shopping bags on the floor by the nightstand closest to the door, pulled off her shoes and sat on the bed, which had been made somewhat sloppily (an outside observer might say it hadn’t been slept in in days). She could care less at this point. While still confused about being somehow transported to London, she was just grateful to have somewhere to sleep. She took off her purple corduroy jacket, tossed it beside her on the bed and lay back to take in her situation.
She’s supposed to have surgery to remove the brain tumor as soon as possible, can’t get ahold of Owen, and now Katie realized that the sheets she’s lying on smell a little like him. What a cruel joke the world is playing on me now. Must be the tumor asserting itself again in some way, she thought as her eyelids began to drift.
The bedroom she found was not as large as the room she and Owen had shared in their Cardiff flat. She would only be here for a day or two before she could find a way home, so Katie was glad she only had the two shopping bags she’d come with. That meant she could change clothes if she wanted (though one of the large bags also contained a few shirts, trousers and other things she’d picked up for Owen that day in Cardiff.) but she probably wouldn’t be here long enough to need to worry about laundry.
Tired, she put the shopping bags on the floor by the nightstand closest to the door, pulled off her shoes and sat on the bed, which had been made somewhat sloppily (an outside observer might say it hadn’t been slept in in days). She could care less at this point. While still confused about being somehow transported to London, she was just grateful to have somewhere to sleep. She took off her purple corduroy jacket, tossed it beside her on the bed and lay back to take in her situation.
She’s supposed to have surgery to remove the brain tumor as soon as possible, can’t get ahold of Owen, and now Katie realized that the sheets she’s lying on smell a little like him. What a cruel joke the world is playing on me now. Must be the tumor asserting itself again in some way, she thought as her eyelids began to drift.