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"You're welcome, Rachael, and...thank you. I'm sure my mother would be glad to hear it," said Mirabella as she poured herself a drink. Her father had prepared the coffee, and he preferred it bitter, so she made sure to add plenty of sweetener and cream to her mug. She noted how Rachael had done the same with her drink, and how cautious she was being as she sat on one of the couches.

Placing a pair of patterned coasters on the nearby table, Mirabella sat next to Rachael, adjusting her beret. It seemed so silly to be wearing it indoors; she vowed to fix her barrettes when she had a spare moment, and place her hat aside. Rachael looked so pensive, sitting there with mug in hand.

"Is everything okay, Rachael? You look a bit nervous. Please don't be. In fact...why don't we go to my room while we wait for some others to arrive. It's a little less...sterile. We could watch some television, or play a board game or listen to some music...hey, you do yoga, don't you? Do you think you could...show me some moves or whatever you call them? And-"

She noticed the package that Rachael had gently placed on the floor. Mirabella had always been a fan of presents. The anticipation of receiving a gift and methodically unwrapping it, no matter what the contents were, was always a joy to her.

"Um...I hate to seem odd, but...that...on the floor...is that for me?"
Version Seven:
Tristan O’Hara
Dorothea Rodriguez
Ariana Simpson

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Lonely Hearts Club · Memories (The Past)