May 08, 2007 12:16
Nadia hadn't so much slept last night as she had passed out, and almost as soon as she had, she was treated to fitful, frustrating dreams about Walter deciding to become a model and then sell the story of "the only girl he ever loved" all over the place. And really, the magazine articles and tell all memoir were one thing, but did he have to look so damned cheerful about it all when he went on Oprah? And did Dr. Phil really have to laugh that hard about the stupid girl who had thought she could ever have a chance with him?
Stupid subconscious.
She still hadn't really eaten much of anything, which was a nice trick, considering how stoned she'd gotten the night before. She felt sicker than ever, now, though, so she stayed curled up in her bed, clutching Furrball like he was the only thing keeping her afloat, even as she pulled her laptop over and opened it up.
The adventure story hummed to life on the screen and she stared at it for a long moment before hissing through her teeth and in an impulsive move that she might regret, later, deleting the entire file.
Dr. Phil was right. And that hurt.
[ooc: pretty much of the establishy nature; Nadia's not likely to leave her room any time soon. But the door is always knockable if someone wanted to come check up on her]
walter,
pippi,
room 7,
dreams