The straw kept spinning in her milkshake,
round and round, led by lazy fingers and
an even lazier look on her face. Isn't it
ironic?, that '90s song played in her head.
Isn't it ironic, how his straw keeps spinning
round and round, and I keep spinning
round and round, and I don't even know
what's chasing after me?
She really had no idea what she was
running from; journalists, yes (one had
called a few days earlier, asking if, by
chance, she had changed her last name
from Murray to Holmes — she still shivered
thinking about how close they were to
finding her again), but maybe something
more, something else, something...
"Uh?", Holmes realized Claudio was
speaking only when it was too late, and
she had no idea what he had just said.
"I'm sorry, I ——", she stuttered, eyes
fluttering downward to her milkshake,
quickly catching the straw between
her lips. "I was distracted". She mumbled
an apology (a lazy one, to be sure)
and the light smile on her face
couldn't hide the tiredness in her voice.