count to nine
9pm / summer’s end, 2016 / @xvsiwoo
even from where she's posted up outside, there's no saving her from the commotion of a party that goes on indoors. the fanfare is justified, it's not everyday that you begin vacation with some hallmark movie type reveal of a long lost cousin/nephew/son, but it hadn’t taken very long to find out that the way of their now-joined families would never be without the dramatics.
between brief, muffled lapses in the music, gabby’s left with the chirps of cicadas and the electric hum of the torchlights in the backyard. the night air is balmy; an inhale, and she already feels the incessant bee-buzz of her brain quiet down for the better. stokes’ orientation is slated first thing tomorrow, and to say how unprepared she feels for it all is an understatment. blindsided, maybe. any other feeling is cast out, far hidden from view.
her time alone is brief—the creak of the screendoor has gabby turning her head. the approaching figure registers, and she lets out a breath. “heya.” she scoots away from the pool’s edge to make room. “sick of ‘em doting on you already?”