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F for Fighting

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Fuck that bitch. Fuck her, fuck her attitude. Fuck. Jack has been sitting in the car for a while now, furious. She went out for a drive to calm down after having a huge fight with Miranda. Her hands are gripping the steering wheel as if it works like a stress ball. As the scene replays over and over in her head, her shoulders start to lose their tension. Someone’s gotta give and fuck herself for becoming soft.

Starting the engine, Jack considers what will happen next. After a short stop at their usual Wine & Spirits, Jack walks into the apartment without much noise. She’s run out of steam. Miranda is sitting out in the balcony and pays little attention to her arrival. Jack draws in a breath before she walks over to her roommate, standing a few steps away and extending her arm to Miranda. Taking the brown paper bag handed to her, Miranda pulls out the wine bottle inside of it.

“What’s this?” Miranda looks at her.

It seems like Jack’s not the only one that has lost her steam by now.

“I don’t know, I just got it thinking you might like it. I can fucking return it.” Jack shrugs, reaching out to take the bottle back.

Miranda shakes her head and smiles softly. “You are such an idiot.”

Jack sits next to her after a moment and Miranda leans her head on her shoulder as they enjoy the view in silence.