Texts From Him || Timothée Chalamet

18

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"You're in a good mood this morning," Winnie's mother said quizzically.

Winnie only pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows as she walked into the lounge with her mom.

"So, who is he?"

Winnie shook her head and gestured to the couch. "Sit down, mom."

"I'm going to make coffee," her mother took off towards the kitchen. Winnie stared after her for a moment. She hadn't felt well enough to do that in at least a month. Her mother was arguably in better spirits that she was.

"I have to go to work, mom. And you're not meant to be drinking coffee, remember?" Winnie joined her mother in the kitchen.

Her mother retrieved a clean cup from the dishwasher. "Decaf. And I never said any of it was for you."

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a laugh. "Thanks mum. Have a good day," was all Winnie said before grabbing her handbag from the counter and turning to leave the apartment.

"You're telling me about him when you get home," her mother said as Winnie slipped out the door. Outside, Winnie chuckled, shaking her head to herself. It's just like how things had been before the disgnosis. She wished she could go back inside and spend the day with her. Doing so crossed her mind for a moment, but she knew she had to work, not only for an income but to hold herself to her own standards. Being lenient on herself one time would make it easier to do a second time, which in Winnie's mind was a slippery slope of a diminishing work ethic. She worked hard, and in it she found her peace. An occupied mind, for her, was a convincing escape.

As she made her way to the metro, Timothy's voice sounded in her head. Winnie eventually caved and pulled out her phone.
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Winnie:
I want to hear your voice again :)

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