"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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"Rachael! Good morning. You're well, I trust?"

Opening the front door, Mirabella was greeted with the pleasant sight of her friend and fellow Writing Club member Rachael Langdon, adorned in a pretty leaf-print dress. Mirabella had always slightly envied Rachael's appearance. She looked so prim and proper, much like Mirabella aspired to be, but Rachael succeeded much more.

She noticed the other girl glancing at the rose planters that lined the path towards the small portico that housed their front door, and couldn't help but comment on it.

"You like the roses? My mother's idea. She isn't the most capable gardener, but she has nice ideas. I hope you don't mind the more...subdued decor inside. My mother says that as long as the outside makes the neighbours jealous, then she doesn't mind what the inside looks like."

She paused, and then realised how odd she must seem, chattering about rose bushes instead of inviting Rachael inside. Her eyes fluttered towards the bag in Rachael's hand, but she decided not to bring it up. She didn't want to seem self-absorbed now, did she?

"Oh my...how silly of me. Do come in, Rachael."

She led the way inside, stepping onto plush carpet. She waved towards the leatherette furniture that took up most of their living room.

"Take a seat if you'd like. There's some coffee and biscotti in the kitchen--my mother insisted on me having it ready--but there's chocolate and fruit and chips and some other things if you'd like."

She smiled at Rachael. This ought to be a good day.
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