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chapter ten the pollywog
☼
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IT WASN'T A surprise to Claire herself when she arrived back at home that night, only to feel nothing but exhaustion. As much as she would constantly think that way; that the night wasn't worth it, a deep part of her admitted that it was actually fun. She glanced around the empty driveway, night sinking with not even a single shadow of anyone, except her. Claire pulled her mask off, and rang the bell to her place.
No answer.
"Come on!" Claire huffed in a snappy tone, groaning. "Just open ― "
At once, the door swung open, and the sight of her dad appeared. He straightened his glasses, making space as Claire walked inside.
"How was the night? Did you have good time?" Andrew beamed as Claire put her things aside and plopped on the couch in front of the small television, playfully putting on her heart shaped sunglasses laying on the couch.
"Yeah," Claire murmered, taking them off, shrugging. "it was good."
"It sure doesn't seem like it." Andrew protested, sitting on the sofa beside his daughter, with a raised eyebrow.
"I told you, it was." The ginger hissed, staring straight ahead at the television, squinting her eyes.
"Then, that's good. I just want to make sure you're having a good time, back here." Andrew sympathized.
Claire paused, turning to her dad with a heavily forceful smile. "Yeah, I am. I'm having a good time."
They sat by there, until quite a while passed, and Claire couldn't think of anything else to do, than rush to her room. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and shifting her head on the pillow, the patterns on the walls looking blurry to her eyes.
