thisΒ is what nora gets for chickening out of driving.Β she has a car, but saves herself the undue stress of using it whenever she can βΒ opting (rather) to test the limits of goldenβs subpar public transit infrastructure.Β nora misses her stop, then the next, then the next:Β her hopes hold up for the rain to turn to drizzle, and allow herself a dryer walk home.Β but luck (evidently and as of late) has not been on noraβs side.Β Β βΒ β what?!Β rose?!Β βΒ Β the poor, drenched writer had been expecting a murder to pop out of the slowing car.Β this was worse, arguably.Β Β β how areβ¦ what are you doing here?! iΒ β no! i am just fine, thank you very much!Β β
Β Β if thereβs a polite way to say fuck off,Β this is it.Β Β well,Β this and not calling the number left on kitchen bench as rose had so hoped.Β nora has mastered it,Β and rosario cannot help a rumbling laughter.Β their time apart has proved somewhat useful,Β though rose will not say out loud what she thinks of.Β Β someoneβs grown a backbone.Β at least where sheβs concerned.Β Β it suits her.Β Β
βΒ youβre ππππ,Β are you?Β βΒ Β does nora seriously expect-----Β Β alright.Β if thatβs the way she wants to play,Β lets play.Β Β Β βΒ okay,Β see you around!Β Β βΒ Β and then she drives off.Β Β no,Β really.Β she does.Β exposed to the actual weirdos who pull over next to lone women,Β and,Β you know,Β the weather.Β Β not for long,Β though.Β rose does a loop,Β rounds back to the bright raincoat,Β having proved her point---- hopefully.
Β Β Β Β βΒ you sure you donβt want a ride?Β β