Max has been (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} anything1) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} rooms,@ 2014-03-30 11:43:00 |
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[There wasn't much that was impressive about the studio in the New York walk-up. But it was furnished simply, and Max took that as a blessing. At least it meant she wouldn't need to redecorate. And, honestly, she didn't care what the place looked like; she didn't care about much just then. The first thing she'd done, when she'd realized that leaving the hotel wasn't an option, was to look for a phone that actually dialed out. She'd found an old, dusty thing in the lobby, and she'd dialed Brandon.
Amanda sounded far away through a phone line that crackled, and the call only held out for a few minutes before the phone died altogether. And that, she realized, was probably the way she was going to experience her daughter growing up - crackling minutes whenever the old phone decided to work, because it wasn't in the mood to let her redial just then. She should have been grateful for even that much, but she wasn't grateful. She wasn't grateful at all.
And so she'd gone home, after stopping for a twelve pack, and stared long and hard in the mirror. She looked tired, all those side-jobs taking a toll the way only sleepless days could. In the end, she tired of the mirror. She lit a smoke, and she took her beer into the hallway to wait for Corvus.]