Author Topic: On the Fritz  (Read 515 times)

Dallas Carter

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On the Fritz
« on: February 17, 2018, 04:23:05 AM »
[size=11]Thursday; February 15, 2018  

[size=11]It wasn?t until the break of dawn slipping through the slits of his bedroom blinds hit the bed that Dallas began to stir. At first, it was just a turn of his head away from the morning rays, a deep furrow of his brow in reluctance to wake up. Then some low muttering, likely cursing the sun? just to turn his face back to it with an ?M'sorry, didn?t mean it?? Truth be told, he loved the sun, but? not when it was stabbing needles into his sleepy eyes.

Bright colors flashed across his eyes through his lids from the bright light, but it wasn?t the sun that made him give in and open them. It was when he rolled onto his side under that plush comforter, his hand reaching out to drape his arm over the side of the bed that once housed a woman, but now only housed cold sheets and empty space.

His lids slowly blinked open, getting only as far as blurry slits before he lifted his head to get a better look. Blinking away sleep, he looked to the empty space as his hand smoothed over the faint wrinkles from where her featherweight had creased them. ?Sierra?..? He muttered sleepily, pushing himself to prop on his left elbow as he smoothed his right palm over his face to brush away the remnants of sleep. ?Ngh? get lost under the covers?..? He mumbled the possibility with a sniff and twitch of his nose before his fingers found the top edge of the blanket just as he felt something fuzzy brush his legs? and then his thigh.

?Mn? mornin?..? He mumbled, a sleepy half-smirk curving the corner of his mouth as he started to lift the covers. ?Still feelin? frisk--hey!? He yelped, flopping back to the mattress in surprise as a grey, black and beige tabby bolted up from beneath the blankets to the pillow beside him. His eyes squeezed shut to the sandpaper tongue that started in on his forehead, and he grunted to the clawed paw that wrapped around the tip of his nose like it was trying to pin him down. ?Fritz?? He grumbled, hand lifting to push the cat away from his face. ?C?mon now? that ain?t right..? He wrinkled his nose, turning his head at an awkward angle to wipe his face off on the shoulder of his t-shirt. ?****in? cat..? He muttered, watching the feline jump off the bed and trot out the door.

Sighing, his thoughts circled back to Sierra. Fritz had been a brief distraction, but he pushed the comforter off his legs and climbed out of bed. He doubted she was hiding under the bed, but then paused at the foot of it. His head turned down to the mattress, narrowing his eyes on it before he lowered himself down to the floor and peeked under it. Kokabiel had told him about a strange little girl she babysat that had an obsession of sleeping in confined spaces, and because of that knowledge? he didn?t let anything past Sierra. Palms to the floor, he lowered down to peek under the bed, but the only thing he found was a sock that he could?ve sworn the washer had eaten. ?Somnabitch..? He murmured, reaching to pull it out, wrinkling his nose to the amount of cat hair clung it it. ?Fritzzzz?? He hissed with a sigh of defeat, tossing it to the hamper by the wall.

Shaking his head, he climbed back up to his feet and made his way to the door. ?Sierra?? He called out, looking to the nearly empty living room with exception to one agitated feline who was perched on the arm of the couch like a Sphinx statue. Her narrowed eyes were locked on Carter as he pulled his head back, one brow perking to that look. ?Y?want som?n, better cut that damn look..? Fritz blinked, tail swishing before she turned her head away from him completely. ?What I thought..? He muttered, sniffing once before he made his way toward the bathroom. The door was almost closed, but cracked open. Yesterday, they?d been pissing buddies, so he wasn?t all that shy to open the door with a press of his palm. ?Si--nope,? he muttered, but the trip didn?t go to waste?

After finishing up in the bathroom, he?d washed his hands and left the bathroom. She hadn?t answered him that whole time, and it was pretty obvious she wasn?t here. That didn?t stop him from peeking around the corner to the kitchen to make sure she hadn?t fallen asleep in a leftover daze in front of the fridge. Alas, the kitchen was just as cold as those sheets had been. ?Ah, well..? He muttered, restraining a frown as he brushed it off. ?She stayed longer?n I expected she would,? he sighed, moving for the fridge to pull out a dish of leftover meat. He heated it to lukewarm in the microwave before setting it down on the floor, where Fritz jumped eagerly from the couch to rush to. The tabby?s head dove right in to the dish without hesitation. ?N?stop stealin? my damn socks,? he huffed, heading to the living room and his cigarettes on the coffee table.

He?d just bent forward, his hand resting on the pack of cigarettes when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Sierra?s abandoned shoes were still sitting in the living room where she?d left them, and he stared at them for a long moment as his spine straightened. Cigarettes in hand, he slipped one of out the pack idly and placed the filter between his lips. ... How could she forget her shoes?.. His eyes trailed over his shoulder with the turn of his head and he stared toward the laundry closet. He?d washed her clothes for her, and she?d never really gotten around to putting them on. If they?re still there..

The corners of his mouth turned down as he made his way to the closet, cigarette forgotten between his lips as he wretched open the dryer. It only took one look to notice that her clothes were still there. Which meant?

One, she?d left in a hurry. He tried not to think too hard about that.

Two, she was not only without her shoes? but hopefully still wearing that long flannel shirt he?d given her to wear. Even still? that wouldn?t keep her warm in this weather, in her state.

The cigarette fell from his lips as he turned quickly for his bedroom to get changed. ?****...?