FOUR DAYS OF RAIN had left the Earth soft and smelling of wet dirt and clean air. The heat of summer had been broken, and already the pavement was lined with brown and golden leaves. The sound of them cracking and breaking beneath the heel of Sally’s boots was satisfying in a way she could not properly express in words. Sally tugged her cardigan tighter around her, the cool wind that carried the briskness of Autumn tangled her hair and made the tip of her nose sting at the sudden cold after months of intolerable, exhausting heat. She had woken up this morning and wrenched the windows open, desperate for the fresh air to clean out the stagnant humidity that plagued Long Island summers, making you sticky even in your own home— air conditioners be damned.
The scent of lavender founds its way to Sally a block away from her home. The sun had just risen fully an hour ago and dew still clung to the greenery. She entered the house to coffee and Carole King; the coffee machine could be heard sputtering out the last few drops almost aggressively. She smiled to herself— shutting the screen door and slipping off her boots as she moved towards the kitchen. The early morning sun reflected off the plants, and set the room in a haze of light blue through the curtains. She approached her sister with soft steps, winding her arms around Gillian’s thin waist. Sally propped her chin up on a bony shoulder.
❝ You’re up early, Bean. ❞ Two mugs of steaming coffee waited on the tiny kitchen table, and, oh, a box of danishes were opened tantalizingly on the counter in front of them. ❝ Wow, for us? You really were up early. ❞
She gave a thought to waking up the girls, but quickly remembered they had slept out the night before. Some time with Gillian would definitely not be a bad thing— especially without two teenage girls screaming throughout the house.
IT WOULD BE EASY FOR GILLIAN to count the amount of times sally pulled her out of trouble --- partially due to the older sister’s ever powerful lectures , but certainly also credited by how gilly kept track of these things . perhaps the blonde used to care little for her sister’s wisdom , as it wasn’t interesting enough for little gillian owens , but the now grown - up woman standing by the kitchen table would beg to differ . it felt like a dagger to her ego / pride , but sally often had a point . maybe not about every single thing , but about a handful of them , && definitely better calculated than gillian’s .
to say that jimmy angelov didn’t haunt her dreams would be too big of a lie even for the blonde . when not in dreams , there were a few reminders s c a t t e r e d across her body that refused to disappear . morbid as it may be , gillian would go as far as to say that his death might as well have been the best thing that ever happened to her . better than all of her three marriages && a pack of cigarettes after a long day of receptionist work ( god , how she used to hate that job . still did !! ) . it brought her close to her sister again , to the one person who was family && friend all at once . she hadn’t noticed just how much she missed sally until the damned night that felt like an eternity ago , but gillian assumed it was just one of those things you don’t miss until you’ve lost it . so what better way to express gratitude than by sparing the other of making breakfast ??
dulcet laughter drops from her lips , crystal eyes rolling at her sister’s comment . ❝ don’t be silly , sally --- i have the cooking skills of a toad . the coffee is on me , but the danishes come straight from the bakery !! ❞ no need to mention how the baker was more than willing to give gillian a couple extra units for free . ❝ glad you noticed i’m up early , ‘cause i’m never doing that again . ❞
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