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[23 Jan 2008|10:10pm] |
 She was staring at the blank canvas for a little over half an hour before any color appeared on the smooth white surface. An outline in white paint, with just a hint of yellow in it; this would be the horizon of her painting. 'Every painting has a horizon,' her father had told her once. Why yellow? Because it's easy to paint over and won't stain the canvas. It was a good start. Unfortunately, that was as far as she would get tonight night. She set the brush down and wiped her hands on the material of the loose t-shirt she wore whenever she painted, then glanced over at the window, it's frame illuminated by the streetlamps and passing cars outside. New York City was where she was born and raised - in a little brownstone deep in the heart of Brooklyn. She was a rarity, having grown up with both parents in a relatively happy household where holidays and get togethers were full of laughter and more food than anyone could ever eat. Over the years, everyone had moved out, leaving behind New York and it's crowded streets for the calm and quiet nature of Virginia and the countryside. Aideen was the only one left in this city. It never mattered much that she was alone, because she always had her friends. But recently, her best friend had left, too. So, here she was now. Standing in her apartment, alone. She had nothing, no one left. The guy she was seeing had left again - he was on the road with his band, or something. Frankly, she didn't even care anymore.
Abandoning the canvas, she walked over to the couch and sat down, opening her laptop on the coffee table and going to her email inbox. She opened up a message she'd gotten from Ryanne a couple of days ago. 'What's keeping you in New York?' She'd asked, 'I can think of a million reasons why you'd be better off here.' Well, shit. She bit her lip as she thought about the other woman who had moved to Chicago a while back to get away from it all. She'd been devastated when she left - Ryanne was the one constant in Aideen's life. Whenever shit started spiraling out of control again, Ry would be there to ground her. She had this way about her... but that was a whole different story. Reaching over, Aideen grabbed her purse and fished her credit card out of her wallet. Typing in the search bar 'jetblue.com', Aideen leaned back against the cushions and set the Macbook on her lap. She was never very fond of flying, but at least jetblue had little T.V's. If she did this right, she'd be in Chicago by this time tomorrow, preferably in Ryanne's bed.
( She was born on a brightened pier to a gypsy mother and a bucket of tears. )
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