Morning. Moira groaned, cursing the light that streamed merrily through her window. It was at least eight o' clock. She yawned and stretched painfully, reminding herself mentally to buy new pillows. After a brisk shower and pulling on some thick leggings and a beige cable-knit jumper that had seen better days, she headed through to the large farmhouse style kitchen downstairs. After flicking on the kettle she wandered over to the fridge, working her shoulder-length pink hair into a loose pony tail while she thought vaguely about breakfast. Removing the small carton of milk and sweeping her gaze over the wilted salad and slightly mouldy cheese in her refrigerator, Moira decided quickly on the Cheerios sat in the cupboard.
After finishing her cereal and armed with a still piping hot mug of tea, Moira made her way to the small guest bedroom she used as her office, her thick socks padding on the sanded Oak floors. Setting her cup down on the desk, the slim twenty-eight year old sank into a worn office chair and switched on her computer. She gulped the tea down gratefully as she skimmed through her e-mails. She grimaced, wondering if the shameless advertisements for Viagra ever actually
worked
. One e-mail looked promising, and she clicked on it eagerly. Her eyes narrowed as she read through what was in fact a very jovial rejection letter. 'Why can't they just put "rejected" in the subject heading?' she thought huffily. Sighing, Moira thought back to the last time she had woken up with a truly positive attitude. The last time she had switched on her computer or collected her post expecting good news. She couldn't even remember. It must have been over a year, at least. She was sick of going through this every day. She needed something new. Her life seemed like an endless cycle of failures, the only bright spots being when her family came to visit. Since she was nineteen she had lived alone, in a house that was too big for her, co-owned with sisters who had inherited the place after the death of an elderly relative. Those sisters had long since found their own lives and moved on. She was the only one still desperately trying to find her niche, and wondering how on Earth other people seemed to have it all together.
After several fruitless hours spent researching something to write a half-decent article about she was interrupted by a short burst of buzzing. She looked at her phone tiredly. As expected, it was Taylor. A failed relationship with the perky blonde had ended abruptly after only a few weeks, but in the years that followed an irreplaceable friendship had blossomed, and Taylor Daniels had become her lifeline that broke up the monotony of being alone and unemployed. Opening the text from her friend, Moira laughed quietly.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself loser, I'll be over in a few hours to get smashed and go clubbing!!
'So I'm
that
predictable?' She thought sardonically. However the thought of seeing her friend soon did cheer her up considerably, and she set about trying to find something to wear, and rounding up the alcohol hiding around the house from previous binges with Taylor.
Two hours later Moira was stood in her bedroom in a short faux leather skirt and a delicate black lace bra with a glass of cheap Asti in one hand, riffling through the clothes in her floor-to-ceiling wardrobe with the other. Party hits were blasting though the house and her front door was unlocked in anticipation of Taylor's arrival. On a table by the front door was a glass of wine and a note telling Taylor to find her upstairs.
At around five-thirty Taylor pulled up outside. Walking in and seeing the note she smiled, reminding herself that Moira seemed to be completely incapable of dressing herself for an outing. She deposited her bag in the kitchen and took her glass of wine - as well as the rest of the bottle - upstairs to see her friend. She was amused to find Moira still half-dressed and mildly tipsy holding different tops in front of her and studying her reflection in her full-length mirror. As Moira turned to the bed to discard the clothes Taylor snuck up behind her and covered her eyes with a hand.
"Guess who!"
Moira giggled.
"The woman of my dreams?" she ventured mischievously. Taylor laughed and pulled her hand away.
"Got it in one!" Taylor released her hold and proceeded to refill her friend's empty glass. Looking Moira up and down appreciatively she asked how she was.
