Isle of Ikea, Wednesday afternoon
Aug. 15th, 2018 11:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deaddadsclubSo far, Cristina's prediction to Parker in the clinic was spot on. She'd woken up that morning hungover in a dry bathtub. As nice as day-drinking alone in the tub for third day in a row sounded, she caught a whiff of herself and decided it was time to use the shower for its actual purpose and maybe let her body manufacture some vitamin D today. Just so long as she got as far from the damn woods as she could.
Turned out she could leave the island! In order to go to one of the other impossible islands nearby.
So here she was, wandering slowly through an Ikea, drinking spiked lingonberry juice from a paper cup and admiring the carefully put together tiny display apartments.
She missed having an apartment. Some place where she could paint the walls blood red and fill with her own furniture. Sure, she'd miss the maid service at the hotel, but those people had judgey eyes anyway.
And hey, now she was day-drinking alone in someone else's bathroom! That was called progress.
[open, should anyone else be visiting the land of meatballs and inexpensive flatpacked furniture!]
Turned out she could leave the island! In order to go to one of the other impossible islands nearby.
So here she was, wandering slowly through an Ikea, drinking spiked lingonberry juice from a paper cup and admiring the carefully put together tiny display apartments.
She missed having an apartment. Some place where she could paint the walls blood red and fill with her own furniture. Sure, she'd miss the maid service at the hotel, but those people had judgey eyes anyway.
And hey, now she was day-drinking alone in someone else's bathroom! That was called progress.
[open, should anyone else be visiting the land of meatballs and inexpensive flatpacked furniture!]
