Meredith Janssen (ex_perspecti86) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-02-15 20:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !ocean's eleven, *narrative, meredith janssen |
narrative: meredith j
[The evening lights from the city were bright through the windows, and it was beside them that Meredith sat, a wine glass in one hand, half-filled with sparkling grape juice. The rest of the lights of the penthouse were out, just the city light to illuminate the living room. She had been sitting there for some time, wondering, waiting, her phone laying beside her slippered feet, silent and still. Dinner was on the table, lasagna and homemade bread, but it had gone cold long ago, wax spilling down the tapers that had been lit before she had given up and snuffed even those out.
It was the first time since they had arrived here that Meredith found herself truly longing for home, for the familiar routine they had settled into, for the life they had shared together. But it felt like years ago that had happened, and lately it had been a lot of time spent on her own, pretending that it was okay.
She was not, by her very nature, a woman who relied on others. She wasn't clingy or dependent, she didn't lose the ability to function when left alone, but there was a limit to even her patience. Promises that things would get better were still there, and she did believe his words, but it didn't help the here and the now. There were things going on that she didn't know about, that she didn't understand, that she wasn't even allowed to help with despite her repeated offers. So she simply stopped offering. He had his things here, and she would just have to have her own.
The glass of juice was finished off and she pushed herself up to her feet, padding into the kitchen to deposit the glass in the sink. Slippers were exchanged for flats and she grabbed her coat, keys, and phone and slid the latter two in her purse. There were no lights to kill, nothing to turn off when she left, but she locked the door behind her.
She could be busy too. She could find her own life in these doors. She didn't have to wait for him to come home, and it didn't mean that she loved him any less. But time was wasting, precious little that there was of it, and Meredith was determined to do something with it.
So she would.
And she did.]