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[color=7bcdc8]“YOU’RE STUPID! YOU’RE OBNOXIOUS AND STUPID! AND STUP-….UGGHH!”[/color][/center]Cries of frustration spilled from apartment 3D into silence. Their source was a lanky woman tucked within the rooms, one foot planted on a window sill and the other on a nightstand that had been dragged near. She was crouched before the glass with her fingers wiggled beneath the wooden frame, heaving upward as if her life was entirely dependent on the fresh air she would be rewarded upon the window opening. Her frame was drowning under a pair of men’s branded overalls, bare toes peeking from beneath their folded hem. Long locks of blonde had been haphazardly tugged into a matching pair of buns, flyaway hairs fighting their way from beneath a bandana. Claire had seen a woman in a hardware store magazine wearing a nearly identical outfit and figured it would be the ideal choice for her day of rearranging her new furniture. They did not disclose that her body would essentially convert the pants into a greenhouse. She had taken a long moment to sympathize with the women and men who visited her parent’s home to work outdoors midsummer, all dressed in dark polo shirts that stayed tucked neatly into long pants. At last, the pane jolted upward and the young woman quickly leapt down from her perch, dropping onto her bed to spread her limbs outward in a full embrace of the February chill. 

Claire had already made significant improvements to the space, with no wall left blank and greenery adorning all open areas that the sun touched. The best that the indie rock genre had to offer was spilling from the stereo that she had tucked into a corner designated for all things music, including her own keyboard and guitar. Days before, she had spotted a baby grand piano hidden within an antique store that was selling it for only a fraction of what she knew it to be worth, but the daunting task of getting it up three floors to the apartment was enough to convince her to begrudgingly leave it where it rest. Numerous boxes containing miscellaneous pieces of decor and furniture still sat propped against the walls, all sharing one thing in common. To Claire’s shock, each apparently required a screwdriver to construct. Something truly unheard of.

The young woman, whose eyes had settled on the window with a glare that dared it to make a move against her once more, suddenly rose upward back onto her feet at the change of the song. Her expression lightened into a broad smile as she slid out into the kitchen, shamelessly carrying herself to the upbeat rhythm that filled the space. Despite her ability to keep a beat, the girl’s movements were nothing to write home about. She swayed and rocked her weight between each foot, snapping her fingers along. But, really, that was all she had. Almost habitually, she continued to the coffee maker sitting atop the counter. She chimed along with the lyrics, snagging her mug from the table and tugging the pot from where it was tucked in the brewer. Claire verbalized defeat with a soft groan, however, as she held the empty container up to eye level. The inside of her brows turned upward as if willing it to fill with something containing caffeine, refusing to accept that she had already consumed the last batch that morning. She heaved a sign as she accepted defeat, placing the useless pot in the sink. 

[color=7bcdc8]“Rowan, you here?!”[/color] She hollered, absentmindedly looking over the papers stuck to the front of the fridge. Her fingers trailed one in particular, tugging it down after realizing the date. [color=7bcdc8]“Aw, I forgot about this! We have to go! I think it’d be kinda cool to meet everyo-”[/color] A sudden wave of revelation crossed Claire's face, her mouth falling agape just slightly. [color=7bcdc8][sub]“Oh no... I’m so sorry,”[/sub][/color] she began in a whisper, [color=7bcdc8][sub]“you're probably meditating and I’m an absolute jerk.[/sub] I’ll just slide this under here, okay?”[/color] She had moved to kneel beside Rowan’s closed door and was attempting to pass the flyer beneath it, mug still in hand. As the paper began to crumple against the door frame, she cringed, leaving it just outside the door with a gentle, finishing pat.  

[color=7bcdc8]“Imma just go get some coffee, okay?”[/color] Claire turned to rush out of the apartment with her music still blaring, window still open, feet still bare, and still having received no answer from behind the door.

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Claire pushed through onto the rooftop, eyes scanning the crowd for one face in particular as goosebumps immediately formed on her bare arms. She muttered something to herself about a window as she swiftly moved towards who she needed, though she was careful not to interrupt any conversations currently being held with the landlord.[color=7bcdc8]“Oh, Bert. Buddy ol’ pal. My faithful dealer of all things caffeinated. My main man, Bert,”[/color] She began as soon as there was an opportunity, addressing the man she had interacted with perhaps a total of three times since her arrival to Silvervale.[color=7bcdc8]“It seems I have not gone shopping in a few days and I’ve put myself in a predicament... So, how much money and/or physical labor would it require for me to perhaps obtain a cup of Joe?”[/color] Before the man could respond, Claire lifted her empty mug, curled her lower lip downward, and overemphasized the batting of her lashes. She probably wasn't going to mention that she had just scoured the entire apartment building for the man.