Britannia, NY

It's Saturday morning, not particularly early (unless you ask Gina), so of course she's at work. Grocery store, not at the check out counter this time. No, she's carefully practicing the art of stacking oranges in a pyramid shape. In other words, she wasting time while trying to look productive. No one's really fooled.

She's tired and her boss assumes Gina's hungover--she isn't, she just hasn't had any sleep in the last two nights. Damned dreams are back and they're starting to creep her out but she's not thinking about that, no. She's stacking oranges. Sharp-smelling, bright colored oranges--

Never mind, the fruit is now all over the floor, rolling every which direction and she has to pick them all up. Fuck.