I looked at the sky, gray and heavy and definitely a sign that rain was on its way, but I left my umbrella in the front hall closet. Without argument, I heeded my mother’s vision, hoping at least this one wouldn’t lead to another injury, and tried not to let the annoyance show on my face as I nodded at my mom and left for the restaurant.

The weather matched my mood as I made my way to Milton. It rumbled, dark and oppressive above me, the heavy feeling of an impending storm hanging in the air. And, sure enough, the moment I got off the bus—the stop several blocks away from the restaurant—the sky opened and unleashed holy hell on me.

“Yep, that feels right.” I laughed humorlessly to no one, taking the opportunity of an empty sidewalk to let out a guttural moan of frustration that I would love to aim at my mom if I had any kind of spine.

“Hey Rose!” Madison said, her bright white teeth nearly blinding me as I stepped out of the horrible rain and into the restaurant. I’ve never understood how Madison keeps up her relentlessly cheery expression, but I guess that’s why she’s front of house and I’m not.

“Hey, Madison. Sorry, back door is jammed again,” I said. Kitchen staff aren’t really supposed to come through the front, especially kitchen staff who are as soaked to the bone as I was, but our door is a tricky bastard that no amount of WD-40 seems able to fix. Given that the place wasn’t even open yet, I figured I was safe to dry off in the front so Chef wouldn’t yell at me for dragging dirty water through her kitchen.

I shook out my hair like a shaggy dog, wiggled my legs to get the excess water off my shoes, and then instantly regretted both of those decisions when I looked up through the tangled strands of my wet hair and saw that Madison wasn’t alone.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, an involuntary reaction that felt punched from my gut.

“Uh, hey, wow, it’s you.”

That’s right. It’s me. Soaking wet Rose Atkinson. Unbelievably uncool. Staring right into the gorgeous face of BROKEN WRIST GIRL.

“Rose, this is Emily,” Madison said, completely oblivious to the desperate lesbian going through the most embarrassing moment of her entire life. “Emily, Rose.”

Emily. EmilyEmilyEmilyEmily—have you ever heard such a perfect name?

09-04-2016, morningwaffles, text post

OKAY BEFORE YOU YELL AT ME, an update to somewhere a place for us is coming tomorrow, I promise. I know some of you beautiful nutbars have new posts by me pushed to your notifications so I’m sorry for those of you who were hoping to read some good, good pining. But, I might have something even better: pining irl.