[ Clarisse only sighs as Abby gets up and makes her way to the kitchen. She can't describe Nicolas Cage. It's impossible.
She's only half listening to Abby in the kitchen, staring down at the couch and picking at a piece of fuzz near her leg, but she lifts her head and frowns when she hears the back door open. A few seconds more, and when Abby hasn't come back, she gets off the couch and walks to the kitchen to find her.
It's hard to make sense of what she's seeing, at first, even though she heard it happen—the back door open, letting cold air in, and Abby's silhouette moving out across the lawn, away from home. Clarisse follows her into the early morning mist, hissing in annoyance as her bare feet hit the wet, cold grass. ]
What the fuck are you doing? [ She comes up behind Abby and grabs her shoulder. ]
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She's only half listening to Abby in the kitchen, staring down at the couch and picking at a piece of fuzz near her leg, but she lifts her head and frowns when she hears the back door open. A few seconds more, and when Abby hasn't come back, she gets off the couch and walks to the kitchen to find her.
It's hard to make sense of what she's seeing, at first, even though she heard it happen—the back door open, letting cold air in, and Abby's silhouette moving out across the lawn, away from home. Clarisse follows her into the early morning mist, hissing in annoyance as her bare feet hit the wet, cold grass. ]
What the fuck are you doing? [ She comes up behind Abby and grabs her shoulder. ]