The crisp fall breeze nipped at Isabellaâs fingertips and nose, whispering foreshadowing secrets of winter, which was very soon approaching. Her overcoat billowed in the wind, yet no part of her felt the chill riding the breeze; instead, she relished in the cold and welcomed winter with open arms. At least once the trees finally succumbed and became empty skeletons, Isabella could relish in the fact that most people stayed in their houses during the day and early night, and she would have the streets to herself.
But today, the town of Bentley was lit with false joy and revelry, all while throwing a festival celebrating the fact that dead bodies painted the history of Bentley red as crimson. It might have been the slightest bit bearable, if not for the irritating argumentative greeting by the woman at Isabellaâs side.
Somehow, she always reminded Isabella of those wine mothers that had peaked as the cheerleader in high school and now basked their days away wearing juicy tracksuits, despite the fact that she was considered âsuccessfulâ by most in their small town.
She wouldnât argue, the bitch was well known for her skills in business throughout Bentley, but no one, no one, spoke to Isabella as if she were nothing. She raised an eyebrow to accompany her pursed lips. âSorry about that, I seem to have mistaken you for my pet dog, I used to tell him everything. But strangely,â she looked her up and down, as if considering Audreyâs visual relation to her old cocker spaniel, Rufus, âthe resemblance is absolutely uncanny. But donât worry, Rufus was always an uncalled for pain in the ass too, at least until I took pity on him and gave him my leftovers.â
Lacerating strangers was something of an art, and one that Audrey had a knack for. Isabella was nothing more than a stranger to her, but that didnât stop Audrey from entertaining a conversation with a young girl who believed she could somehow find some kind of edge by quipping witticisms. If she had been more present, Audrey wouldâve appreciated the effort; as it was, however, she continued tapping the screen of her phone as the brunette droned on about Audreyâs dog-like qualities. âThatâs one I havenât heard before,â she admitted with no amount of interest or appreciation. âBut thatâs likely because I donât make a habit of hanging out with middle school girls.â A smile that didnât quite touch her eyes found its way to the corners of her mouth.
An electronic âwooshâ signaled that her message had been completed and sent off to the desired recipient, giving Audrey the time to take stock in the girl who stood beside her. None of the physical cues amounted to anything when paired with the gut-wrenching sense of foreboding that came from looking at the brunette too long. It was a feeling becoming entirely too familiar in Bentley -- - Audrey would meet someone, like that fucking cowboy hat-wearing grocer, and would immediately feel as if something wasnât quite right. There was no reason to experience anything but indifference when looking at the girl -- - she was pretty enough, not overly tall, put together, and Audrey wouldâve thought she was delightfully bitchy if they had gotten off on the right foot - --  but there was a sensation that the girl was... off. Whatever it was, it fueled the fires of her aggravation.Â
âFunny that Iâm a âpain in the assâ now that Iâm not giving the attention you clearly didnât get from your mother.â A soft alert from her phone went ignored in favor of this new girl, which was a rare occasion in and of itself, but Audrey didnât necessarily want to turn her back on someone who put off such a terrible aura. âDonât you have somewhere you need to be? Maybe some friends who would actually like to hear you bitch about anything under the sun?â
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