"i just want to keep calling your name until you come back home."
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how does one ever stop the guilt? do you just continue your life in a vicious cycle of deliberations?
wondering what could've happened if you stayed home that nigh...
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Why were Mondays so damn annoying? Why did even the smallest of things always seem to go wrong for her?
Alison frowned at her reflection in the dusty mirror, mumbling curse words quietly to herself while moving toward the glass to better see the smudged mascara that now coated the edge of her eyelid.
She stared at herself for a moment before placing the tube back on the messy countertop. Alison grabbed another brush, dabbed it into a darker colour and brushed it along the smear in hopes of masking it, even a little and switching to her other eye to match the colour.
She nodded in approval before she placed the products back in her makeup bag.
Taking one more look at her appearance, Alison left the bathroom. Passing the doors to both of her brother's bedrooms, she ducked into her own and quickly moved around it, attempting to locate all of the notes she'd made last night during the study group. She shoved loose papers into her bag and the textbooks she needed for her classes that day and grabbed a long-sleeved flannel on her way out of her bedroom.
The smell of cooking eggs directed her to the kitchen, where she found her brother hunched over the stove, bobbing his head along to a song playing softly on the radio.
She dropped her bag onto the ground and pulled the flannel over her tank, her attention drawn to the phone dangling off the receiver.
"Did you leave the phone off the line?" Alison picked the phone up from where it was hanging with a frown, "J? Jonathan?"
"Hmm?" Jonathan turned away from the stove to see the puzzled look on his sister's face, "Sorry, what?"
"Did you leave the phone off the line?" She repeated while waving the yellow device at him before she dropped it back onto the receiver.
"No." He shook his head, "You want eggs?"
"Obviously." She smiled, squeezing by him to get to the cabinet. She grabbed three plates from it, hearing her mother cursing due to her lateness and misplaced keys, and placed them on the bench beside her brother before she grabbed the forks she'd cleaned and left by the sink the night before. She dropped them onto the table and sat in her usual seat.
"Where the hell are they?" Their mother's voice from the living room, followed by the rustling of some papers on the coffee table, "Jonathan? Alison?"
"Check the couch!" Jonathan called back, shaking his head with a grin at Alison, who had shrugged.
"I can barely keep track of my keys." She muttered.
"It's why you have such a colourful keychain." He grinned.
"Ugh, I did!" Joyce exclaimed before she went silent, her previous words followed by a very sheepish, "Oh! Got them."
Alison and Jonathan glanced at one another, nodding once, "Couch."
