+ @cataclysvm
Spring was becoming more inviting within the city. After the leftover chill that winter had to offer, the nights were becoming bearable and breathable. Maybe that was just her opinion – someone who grew in the sweltering heat of Alabama. Roslyn was warm blooded, but this weather was nice. The streets had been sprinkled with a slick coat of rainfall from hours before. Lights of endless traffic and build board signs reflected off of it and made the streets glow. There was a certain beauty in the city, one she could never take lightly. She walked down the sidewalk in her ballet get-up, duffle bag hanging off her shoulder containing the clothes she could have changed back into at the studio. But her lesson she was giving ran longer than anticipated, and the girl had things to do. Besides, this was New York. She was sure no one even batted an eye whenever she entered the supermarket just a few minutes ago.
She shifted the large paper bag in her arms while approaching her apartment complex. It’s a mystery of how she was able to carry everything up without dropping at least something. Roslyn was the type to be graceful on her feet – but not much else. Everyone who got to know her were always sadly aware of this.
After shoving everything into the crook of her arm, she unlocked the apartment’s door and pushed the door open with her shoulder. Music was playing in the living room, not too loud but enough to fill the atmosphere with an upbeat tone. After the day Roslyn had, this was the sort of thing she enjoyed to come home to. Yet, Stevie wasn’t anywhere in sight. Roslyn let the strap of her duffel bag slip off her shoulder and fall to the floor as she made her way to the kitchen. She began to take out the contents of the grocery bag and lay it on the counter – just some fruit, milk, wine, and a few other things they needed. She pulled out the slightly crushed cheap bouquet of flowers she bought. They were pretty, even in their state, and it was an impulse buy more than anything.
As she rummaged through the drawers in search of scissors, she called out, “Stevie, I’m home!” She cut off the ends of the flowers and stuck them into a vase of water, then walked over and placed it on the counter while peering into the room with her eyes narrowed. Still no answer. “I bought wine, don’t make me drink it all by myself.” That line usually seemed to work.