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Mirabella paused. She'd just misinterpreted a minor caution as something more complicated, hadn't she? Her father's perspicacity for such matters was well-known to her and her mother, and her subconscious must be causing her to try (and subsequently fail) to emulate him in that regard. Rachael was just being polite, that was all.

She was just being polite...not everybody has issues like you, Mirabella.

Mirabella knew that she must've made an error in her judgement when Rachael stammered slightly in her explanation of the package on the lettuce-green carpet. Rachael seemed about to confirm her comfortableness in the somewhat vacant living room when the doorbell rang. Mirabella had never cared for the doorbell; it was a garish thing; she thought its installation was superfluous when there was a perfectly good lion-shaped knocker engraved in bronze already there.

Wincing as the two-toned bell rang throughout the room, Mirabella began to prepare to welcome the newest arrival. Delicately traversing the plush carpet, she paused to place Rachael's gift onto the nearby table beside her half-empty mug of coffee, which still had a cloud of steam rising from within.

Opening the door, she was greeted with the sight of Megan Emerson standing on the doorstep, dressed in a black dress dotted with white spots, and carrying a gift bag in her hands. To be truthful, the girl's presence was a surprise to Mirabella. Sending an invitation out to Megan occurred almost as an afterthought. However, she had a good sense of humour and a good eye for literature, so she was glad for the new arrival.

"Oh, hello Megan. I'm glad you could make it. Rachael's here as well. There's some coffee and biscotti on a tray, with cream and sugar. Although...the pots half-empty, I think. Uh...do come in."
Version Seven:
Tristan O’Hara
Dorothea Rodriguez
Ariana Simpson

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Lonely Hearts Club · Memories (The Past)