Summers 11A

The radiator in Jane’s apartment knocked noisily, as if trying to banish the spirit of the chill October air. Sitting on the couch in the small living room, Wings pulled at the shoulders of her sweater, bundling its soft fabric against her cheeks.

Jane walked in from the kitchen, with two soup bowls. She extended one towards Wings. “Chili?”

“Freezing.” Wings reached up, let the sweater fall back over her shoulders as she grabbed one of the bowls from Jane, who decided it wasn’t worth the effort to clarify what her question had meant.

Jane’s phone, resting on the coffee table, chimed. She picked up the phone, frowning. Wings looked up at her, concerned. “Problems?”

Jane shook her head. “My mother.” She paused as she read the text message on her phone. “She’s at a gas station, says she’ll be here in an hour.” She lay the phone back down on the coffee table like it was a traffic ticket.

Wings leaned forward. “Why didn’t you just tell her not to come up?”

Jane looked back at Wings indignantly. “I did tell her that!” Her face relaxed, and she sat down in an armchair. “But as soon as I told her about — you know — ”

“About waking up one morning and thinking you’ve just come in from another dimension?”

Jane thought about calling her a bitch, but decided to let her tone of voice convey that sentiment. “How compassionate of you. Yeah, once I told her that, there was no stopping her.”

Wings frowned, looked down at the floor, then back up at Jane. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Jane nodded. Yeah, that thing about Brad’s proposal. She hadn’t told her mother, or Wings, or anyone, save Dr. Patel, and she had only told him when he’d asked for a complete list of stress factors in her life.

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