Re: Wren and Evie in the Dustbowl
[Wren didn't know what to expect from Evie's new home, but she was just glad that her friend had left the hotel she was staying in behind. Wren had never seen the place, and that made her really, really sure that it was terrible, and that no one wanted to tell her it was terrible. So, whatever this place was, it had to be better.
Subway to subway, bus and sidewalk, and Hell's Kitchen wasn't that different from Queens. Wren walked along the sidewalk that led to the address Evie had given, and she thought it was quaint. It reminded her a little of the neighborhood the walk-up she and Luke had shared was in, back after Seattle, before Vegas, and before all the bad stuff between.
People called to each other, and kids still played in the street, defiant of concerns of parents, and Wren thought it felt like an older place. Not like home, because Key West wasn't anything like New York, but maybe childhood felt the same everywhere.
She stopped outside the building, and she looked from the restaurant up, trying to pinpoint Evie's window from the street. After a few seconds, she went in. In her hand, she held the dance schedule for the studio that was only a few minutes away. A bouquet of bright sunflowers was tucked beneath her arm. A sundress and cardigan, sandals on her feet and her hair half up in a vintage hair comb, she climbed the stairs with a cheery little bounce, and she knocked at the door.]