This Could Be A Possibility
my sanctuary, my sanctuary.
“Are you ready yet?”
Naturally, this the fifth time Will has called.
“Will,” Abigail’s talks in that calm, sweet voice. The one he knows comes right before an ass whooping. “I’m busy. I was also busy the last time you called. And before that too.” She glares at the lump dirty clothes in the corner of her room. She could’ve sworn she just saw something move.
“Nevermind, just come over now.”
Click.
Will stares at his phone. Then scratches his head. And stares at the phone again.
“Huh.”
---
“I told myself I’d get it done this weekend.”
What. The hell.
“Will?”
Will turns his head to Abigail.
“You don’t have to help if you want.”
Help.
Help…
---
Help. Right.
---
It’s be easier to help if the old plates in her closet weren’t trying to smush him.
---
Or trying not to get eaten from whatever’s hiding under the bed.
---
It would especially help if he didn’t feel like he was scrubbing the remains of the Zombie Apocalypse out of the carpets and walls.
---
“I’m finished!” She cries happily.
“Yeah.”
“No, Will. I’M FINISHED!” Abigail twirls, before kissing him on the cheek. “I finished the list! And now I can do whatever I want, because there’s no evidence that the zombies—“
Her voice becomes lighter and lighter.
“—and the government has NO proof—“
Eventually to the point where he can no longer hear it.
Zombies. Murder. Government.
He shrugs, trudging after her.
At least it’s not a hit list.
Naturally, this the fifth time Will has called.
“Will,” Abigail’s talks in that calm, sweet voice. The one he knows comes right before an ass whooping. “I’m busy. I was also busy the last time you called. And before that too.” She glares at the lump dirty clothes in the corner of her room. She could’ve sworn she just saw something move.
“Nevermind, just come over now.”
Click.
Will stares at his phone. Then scratches his head. And stares at the phone again.
“Huh.”
---
“I told myself I’d get it done this weekend.”
What. The hell.
“Will?”
Will turns his head to Abigail.
“You don’t have to help if you want.”
Help.
Help…
---
Help. Right.
---
It’s be easier to help if the old plates in her closet weren’t trying to smush him.
---
Or trying not to get eaten from whatever’s hiding under the bed.
---
It would especially help if he didn’t feel like he was scrubbing the remains of the Zombie Apocalypse out of the carpets and walls.
---
“I’m finished!” She cries happily.
“Yeah.”
“No, Will. I’M FINISHED!” Abigail twirls, before kissing him on the cheek. “I finished the list! And now I can do whatever I want, because there’s no evidence that the zombies—“
Her voice becomes lighter and lighter.
“—and the government has NO proof—“
Eventually to the point where he can no longer hear it.
Zombies. Murder. Government.
He shrugs, trudging after her.
At least it’s not a hit list.
♠ ♠ ♠
Complete a list