[for just_muse_me 12.3.6.] I couldn't remember the last time I felt...
Her designs for Baby Brooke and the spring line were gone. Her laptop was gone. The money from the cash register was gone.
And here she was, standing in a store that looked like it had been turned upside down and shaken, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt so numb.
She hadn't started cleaning, hadn't touched anything, really. The door was locked, the blinds closed, and the Closed Sign warned everybody off. She'd called Millicent earlier that morning telling her to take the day off. She shouldn't have to see this.
The skin of her face felt thin and tender. She'd managed to put a little makeup around her eyes, but it did little to hide the ugly black marks that took unwelcome residence there. Her whole body was sore, and yet, in some ways, she felt absolutely nothing.
Cold. She regarded the toppled racks, the opened drawers and turned tabletops as if they were but fragments of a forgotten dream.
"I'm not gonna cry," she whispered to herself. Her voice sounded scratchy, and dead. She hadn't talked much when Barney had stayed over, mostly slept. Hearing her talk probably would've worried him more, would have made her seem any less than "okay."
And she wasn't going to cry. She hadn't at all. Even in the shower, the stinging pain of the water on her tender skin just made her close her eyes. She was void of emotion. She wasn't going to cry.
Leaning down with a low grunt, she picked up a fallen rack of clothes. Within hours, it looked as if nothing had ever happened.
And here she was, standing in a store that looked like it had been turned upside down and shaken, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt so numb.
She hadn't started cleaning, hadn't touched anything, really. The door was locked, the blinds closed, and the Closed Sign warned everybody off. She'd called Millicent earlier that morning telling her to take the day off. She shouldn't have to see this.
The skin of her face felt thin and tender. She'd managed to put a little makeup around her eyes, but it did little to hide the ugly black marks that took unwelcome residence there. Her whole body was sore, and yet, in some ways, she felt absolutely nothing.
Cold. She regarded the toppled racks, the opened drawers and turned tabletops as if they were but fragments of a forgotten dream.
"I'm not gonna cry," she whispered to herself. Her voice sounded scratchy, and dead. She hadn't talked much when Barney had stayed over, mostly slept. Hearing her talk probably would've worried him more, would have made her seem any less than "okay."
And she wasn't going to cry. She hadn't at all. Even in the shower, the stinging pain of the water on her tender skin just made her close her eyes. She was void of emotion. She wasn't going to cry.
Leaning down with a low grunt, she picked up a fallen rack of clothes. Within hours, it looked as if nothing had ever happened.