elizabeth f. fortescue (![[info]](https://www.scribbld.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ringmybell) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.scribbld.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} valesco, |
"No! I---" Liz shook her head, gesturing toward the various tubs of ice cream, "Who am I to stand between you and your delicious treats?"
Oy. Vey. Liz's shoulders shrugged awkwardly as she tried to come up with an excuse to leave, but while part of her was ready to bolt straight through the ceiling, another, more whiney part wanted her to stay and talk to him. It hadn't been a fight that had ended things with Rian, it had been---life, her, her craziness, Katie, Ian, him! Things had just become too much and Liz had realized in a sudden and abrupt manner that she couldn't handle 'too much.' Not yet.
So her answer had been to ask for a break, to be---broken up. Rian was most certainly one of the nicest blokes she'd ever met, quieter than most of her friends (or at least, what was remaining) and very understanding of her craziness. Because that's what it was: she was crazy. She was an undiagnosed loony who still had permission to spend time alone with a very young child. Liz was just waiting for the day that the healers from St. Mungo's came and carted her off in a straight jacket, but until then she suffered through her anxieties on her own and made a mess of what could've been good things.
"I'm doing all right," she said with a nod, looking down at the counter to take a breath. Liz lifted her head and cocked it to the side, "How's your sister? And the job and---you?"
Oy. Vey. Liz's shoulders shrugged awkwardly as she tried to come up with an excuse to leave, but while part of her was ready to bolt straight through the ceiling, another, more whiney part wanted her to stay and talk to him. It hadn't been a fight that had ended things with Rian, it had been---life, her, her craziness, Katie, Ian, him! Things had just become too much and Liz had realized in a sudden and abrupt manner that she couldn't handle 'too much.' Not yet.
So her answer had been to ask for a break, to be---broken up. Rian was most certainly one of the nicest blokes she'd ever met, quieter than most of her friends (or at least, what was remaining) and very understanding of her craziness. Because that's what it was: she was crazy. She was an undiagnosed loony who still had permission to spend time alone with a very young child. Liz was just waiting for the day that the healers from St. Mungo's came and carted her off in a straight jacket, but until then she suffered through her anxieties on her own and made a mess of what could've been good things.
"I'm doing all right," she said with a nod, looking down at the counter to take a breath. Liz lifted her head and cocked it to the side, "How's your sister? And the job and---you?"
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