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Sep. 18th, 2020 05:04 pmNothing much changes, at least not at first, and she packs up her things with ease. The volunteers at the Home are nice enough that they make sure she gets to her new place and doesn't have to pay for a cab, and when she's dropped off, the old guy who's brought her -- Marcus, she thinks, she hadn't really bothered learning names -- leans out and asks if she needs help up.
"I've got it," she says, grabbing her bag and then the one box of things she's managed to collect. "Thanks."
He nods, then pauses before pulling away. "If you need any help, duck, you know where to find us."
Maeve is a bit taken aback, mostly by the sincere kindness in his voice, and she chews on her ragged thumbnail while murmuring a thanks, then heads for the door of her new building.
It's not amazing. She can't afford amazing, even with a roommate joining her soon, but it's close to Barton and it's clean and the bedroom she'd picked for hers has huge windows that let in as much natural light as she could ever hope for. Maybe it's not that big house she dreamed she'd have one day, but it's a start.
The boxes with her new furniture arrive just as she realizes she doesn't have any food. Or worse, no tea. She's got a kettle, at least, but nothing to put in the water when it boils, though she's distracted from that problem by the sudden arrival of many, many boxes. All of them containing something she's going to have to put together. The sofa, the stand for a TV, whenever they can afford one. Two bookshelves, a kitchen table and a set of chairs. Her bed. The mattress is propped up against the wall in her room and she figures the frame is probably the best place to start.
"Bloody hell," she mutters, standing in the midst of them all, just as the kettle starts to shriek from the kitchen.
"I've got it," she says, grabbing her bag and then the one box of things she's managed to collect. "Thanks."
He nods, then pauses before pulling away. "If you need any help, duck, you know where to find us."
Maeve is a bit taken aback, mostly by the sincere kindness in his voice, and she chews on her ragged thumbnail while murmuring a thanks, then heads for the door of her new building.
It's not amazing. She can't afford amazing, even with a roommate joining her soon, but it's close to Barton and it's clean and the bedroom she'd picked for hers has huge windows that let in as much natural light as she could ever hope for. Maybe it's not that big house she dreamed she'd have one day, but it's a start.
The boxes with her new furniture arrive just as she realizes she doesn't have any food. Or worse, no tea. She's got a kettle, at least, but nothing to put in the water when it boils, though she's distracted from that problem by the sudden arrival of many, many boxes. All of them containing something she's going to have to put together. The sofa, the stand for a TV, whenever they can afford one. Two bookshelves, a kitchen table and a set of chairs. Her bed. The mattress is propped up against the wall in her room and she figures the frame is probably the best place to start.
"Bloody hell," she mutters, standing in the midst of them all, just as the kettle starts to shriek from the kitchen.
