sandandwater: (looking down)
The following packages arrive in New York, to their addressees, a few days after the new year.

For Cait:

A scarf of Italian silk, to be worn draped over the shoulder. And a note:

Cait,

I can only imagine what you must be thinking right now and I hope that I can still count you amongst my friends. I'm sorry that I didn't take the time to say goodbye in person and sorrier still for any hurt I've caused you. I'm grateful for all that you've done for me in the last few months and I'll never know how to truly thank you for that.

I saw this and thought of you and though it is belated, Merry Christmas.

Pippa



For Zippy:

A scarf of Italian silk, to be worn draped over the shoulder along with seven bars of Italian chocolate. And a note:

Ms. Zippy,

I know that this is well past late, but I hope your Hanuka was a happy one. I apologize for not delivering these in person but I am no longer in New York. (I am sure you surmised that much from the post mark on this package) I need to find myself and Venice has always been a good place for that. And for making glass.

Pippa
sandandwater: ([short hair] black shirt)
Saturday. A shopping date with Rory's sister. Pippa sighed as she poured herself yet another cup of coffee. If it weren't Caitlin MacEibhir she would have canceled. The morning hadn't been kind to her and the afternoon wasn't looking much better. Then there was the fact that it was Saturday and Rory (and Breaker Street) had a gig at Last Call and she wouldn't (couldn't) be there.

Her mood swings had been so drastic lately, Pippa was beginning to get on her own nerves. She wanted to be alone, she wanted Rory with her, she didn't want him there at all. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She needed to laugh. Dear God, she needed something.

She needed to answer the door.

Bringing the mug of coffee with her, Pippa went to the door, stepped over the dog and checked the peep hole before undoing the series of deadbolts and the slide chain keeping the door locked. This wasn't leftover paranoia, it was just a fact of life on Staten Island. You locked your door even when home.

"Cait, hello. Come in, please. Don't mind Mr. Beaker, for whatever reason he's taken to lying in front of the door when Ro's not here." She stepped back to let the other woman into the apartment. "I'm sorry I'm not quite ready to go, do you want some coffee? I won't be long, I just need to find my shoes."

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sandandwater

October 2009

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