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━ DECEMBER, 2022 ━
ISABELLE
✧
TO SAY I was devastated would be an understatement. But it was fair enough, I was the one who had been painfully stubborn and insisted we watched Midnight Sun at like, one in the morning ── dodging away every horror movie suggestion Katherine would try to state.
Presently, she asks for another tissue, shutting down her MacBook that was propped against the fat stack of cushions on the couch. We were sharing a blanket on the floor, the layer of woolen rugs thick enough to keep us warm while it drizzled incessantly out the windows. If not for the controlled temperatures inside, I swear I would have frozen to death by now.
"Never again" I sigh, passing the box of Kleenex towards Kat. She blows her nose into one, eyes still red around the corner from the sob session.
"But it was worth it, not gonna lie" She grins, getting up on her feet to stretch. "God, how long have I been sitting in the same posture?"
"Yeah I cannot even feel my left limb's existence anymore" I half-joke, making my way over to the desk. I still had some emails to respond to, requiring immediate attention and I knew that if I procrastinated it till the next morning, I'd probably end up forgetting about it altogether.
"Izzy you realize that's not your bed right?" Katherine snorts, glancing back at me as she slides under her comforter and faces the wall.
"I do, I just need to get some minor work done. You should get some sleep, got a date tomorrow, don't you?" I tease, fixing my ponytail as I wait for Gmail to finally load. The internet connectivity was poor around this time of the night, given that 90% of the students in our dorm used the Wi-Fi past 12, either for study purposes or to binge watch Netflix.
"Mhmm, I don't wanna meet his parents all puffy eyed and groggy" She mumbles before slowly falling asleep to the sound of raindrops spattering on the windowpanes, sometimes threatening to turn violent. Praying that the sun would come up by tomorrow, since it was New Year's Eve and the weather had posed a high risk of dampening the holiday spirit, I return my focus to the screen before me. Half of the mails I had were forwarded brochures and articles from the GRL official website, and the other half a bunch a spam except the one ── extremely unexpected and startling ── from drsmiller@/hotmail.com.
Who even uses hotmail anymore, I thought to myself as I click on it, my heart hammering against my ribcage as I try to fathom what could have possibly led to Sky Miller emailing me out of nowhere.
