MESS IT UP ACT TWENTY-FOUR! - ' TV ' date - 09 / 10 / 2023
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IT WAS HALF PAST ELEVEN IN the morning by the time daisy woke up, dazed and still exhausted. her head ached, the sunlight from her cracked blinds spilling directly into her eyes and searing a hole in her brain.
she clamped her palms over her face, trying to block out as much of the world as she possibly could as she attempted to regain her bearings.
any effort to recollect the night prior caused a flash of pain to shoot straight into her skull, causing her to groan.
she eventually pulled herself together enough to move her legs to dangle off the bed, stretching. she realized that she wasn't in the same clothes she had been in when she had gone out, or at least she hoped she wasn't, because they were pajamas. pajamas that smelt specifically like vanilla and espresso, which made her head spin.
pajamas that smelt like gracie.
it didn't take long for her to realize it wasn't just the pajamas that held the lingering scent of gracie, it was everything. her sheets, her duvet, her pillowcases, even herself.
she exhaled, convincing herself she was just going crazy and brushing off those thoughts as she left her room, socked feet creaking against the hardwood floor of her apartment. she walked downstairs, her house seeming fairly clean and put together, which was abnormal after a night out.
she walked to the kitchen in search of coffee, noticing a handwritten note taped to the fridge. her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, walking closer to it and pulling it off the metallic surface, squinting to read the tiny writing with her already blaring headache.
i put coffee and a vegetarian breakfast burrito from erewhon (i hope it's still your favorite) in the fridge. im here to talk if you ever need me, dais - gracie
her knuckles were white with how hard she was pressing the paper between her thumb and index finger, her grip shaky and breathing unsteady.
her need to vomit was multiplied by a thousand as her eyes scanned the words on the paper over and over again. her stomach twisted uncomfortably, feeling like someone had snaked a hand into her stomach and was wringing her intestines out like an old sponge.
she strained as hard as she could to remember what had happened the night before, but was met with absolutely nothing. all she remembered was some spotty memories of getting ready, and an overwhelming ache of sadness and frustration that had followed her like a shadow throughout her drunken state.
her head ached more aggressively, a pressure building under her eyes. she opted to drop the note on the countertop, opening the fridge to find the burrito and coffee placed on the top shelf of her fridge. she realized at this time as well that she had almost no food, which surely made gracie worry.
