Cass swore silently to himself as he read the letter. Or rather, not so silently.
He'd forgotten Pansy's birthday. How the fuck did that happen? Seriously, he needed to get a grip on himself, because this wallowing in misery was obviously not working very well.
He hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights today, but was sitting in darkness.
Getting up from the sofa, he took the food and carried out into the kitchen, where Susan's food from yesterday was still uneaten. He needed to eat, he knew it logically, had already lost several pounds because he didn't eat and sleep properly.
He used to be better at pretending than this. Much better. So why was it so hard this time around?
Pulling out a parchment, he wondered if he could fake it, pretend he hadn't forgotten, though he realised that it was a bit late for that. He would simply have to try and make it up to her instead.
Dearest Goddess,
Thank you for the food, you're right that I'm not up for cooking (I'm upset, not suicidal, after all and I don't see how adding food poisoning to the mix would help anything). I am lucky to have friends such as you who takes care of me though, it helps, especially since it reminds me that I can't wallow in misery for much longer.
On that note, I'm so dreadfully sorry for forgetting your birthday. Can I ever make it up to you? Perhaps take you to London? We could go shopping for those books Percy promised you. I'm not sure he'd be up to spending time with any of my friends at the moment after all, and since I was the one to mess things up it's only fair.