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Phoebe (powerofpheebs) wrote in wariscoming,

Phoebe hadn't counted on how much more difficult it would be writing advice and words of wisdom to the people of their strange little world than it was back home. Back home, the worst problems people had were not enough money to surprise a girlfriend or awkward love squares. Here, though? Here people were upset over demons and ghosts and timelines gone awry. And though the letters were anonymous, she could easily see people she knew or had talked to in them. It made it hard. Very hard.

She needed a breather. She was nearly done with the current submissions, but her head was spinning from the troubles of Lawrence. For the first time in a long time she was glad her empathy had been taken. It wouldn't been nearly impossible to tune out as much suffering as was surrounding her every day by then.

So she was heading out. Somewhere in the city, maybe. A Haagen Daaz if she could find it, or a generic Kansas-based ice cream place if she couldn't. Just some way to clear her head.

But then she saw the woman. She was talking to herself, and Phoebe didn't have to be an empath any longer to pick up on what she was saying. "They're off this hallway here," she interrupted, then blushed a little. "I mean, sorry to butt in. You just sounded lost is all."