Ten hours later and dawn broke into Linda’s apartment. First, it hit on the white plastic refrigerator/freezer that sat beside the wide window who slatted blinds allowed small blades of the sun into the place. Next, they landed onto the plastic countertops in the kitchenette, the dingy sink with its water stains, and then onto the linoleum floor. The light burned the open path around the small bar that served as the dining room and out into the wider space of the living room.

It sank into the light blue couch that served as a convenient obstacle, swirled with the dust motes above a small glass table in front of the couch, and spotted onto Linda’s carefully squared feet.

Linda had been perched upon her suitcase since zero six hundred. She had pulled the brown suitcase from the far right corner of her closet the night before. Instead of rotating the week’s supply of clothing she kept inside the suitcase, she resettled the thing next to the couch, where she slept for exactly eight hours. With the first light ping of her alarm, Linda woke. 

She dressed in her usual business attire; brown shoes, opaque panty house, brown skirt, an ivory blouse, and a light blue cardigan to add a splash of color to her ensemble. Given that she planned on traveling this day, she had taken the extra precaution of ordering her bleach-blond hair into an unforgiving french braid that would contribute to her eventual geriatric baldness. 

Linda shifted on the suitcase. All of her preparations for the day had been made two hours ago. Patricia had agreed to get an early start on the hunt for Linda’s bra. But Linda could not hear any alarm sounding to wake Patricia up. All she could hear was Patrica’s uneven snoring from the bed. It was already eight am, the latest Linda could ever allow herself to sleep in. Linda shifted again and bit back a sigh. She knew Patricia could sleep whole days away if she wanted. 

Linda’s jaw flexed, and she stood up from the suitcase.

If she was going on this mad-cap dash to steal her brassier back, it would be done according to her careful planning. She would not simply wait for Patricia to bully her out of her own apartment. Linda would bully Patricia out of her bed.

Linda dusted off her skirt and cardigan, hoping the sharp rasp of her skin dragging against the cloth would wake Patricia up.

It did not. Linda walked softly to the opened door of her room, then tapped against the door frame. 

Patricia didn’t stir. It was strange for Linda to see her so still. Usually, Patricia was storm-clouded by an aura of general loudness and activity. Some of the other tellers at the bank had called Patricia “chaotic”, but Linda disagreed. It was an easy mistake, to call what was loud “chaotic”, but there was a vast difference. Patricia’s energy was not at the mercy of anything random or without sense. Patricia perfectly controlled herself so that the most dynamic action would happen both to her and around her. Linda was the only one who realized this. 

Linda gathered her breath, held it, and stepped into the room. She crept across the hardwood floor to the queen-sized bed arranged in an awkward diagonal across the room that allowed the sleeper to still see the door to the apartment. It was a requirement.

Linda stretched her hand out, one finger fully extended and ready to tap upon Patricia’s exposed shoulder. A flash of Linda’s mother’s face stopped her. 

Linda pulled back her hand, cradling it as though her wrist had been rebroken, and stumbled back from the bed. 

Patricia shifted in her sleep, rolling in one violent motion from her back onto her stomach. 

Linda’s breathing calmed, and her heart slowed its run-away beat. She straightened her cardigan and this time approached the bed in the same way she would approach an irate customer. 

“Excuse me, sir, I must ask you to leave,” Linda whispered as she tapped on Patricia’s arm.

Nothing. Linda frowned and tried again, repeating the line once again.

“Jesus Christ, Linda, it’s not even eight,” Patricia moaned. She was tired of watching Linda push through her caution and so decided to put the kibosh on pretending. “I’m hung-over, that ice cream last night was just the beginning. Why the hell do you have so much booze? And all that liquor I brought over was just going to waste, you know? What else could I do but sit in here and drink it all by myself? It was really lonely, to drink it all by myself like that, so it serves you right that you’ve got to wait until I’m good and ready and no so hung-over.”

Linda didn’t say anything, but Patricia could feel the sneering curl of Linda’s lips, the way Linda squinted her eyes and pulled her lips tighter when she was disappointed. Like a mother hen.

Patricia sighed then slowly rose from the depths of the bed, her blond hair wild with knots that she began to detangle with her fingers. “There, I’m up. But look at all these knots, I’ve gotta take a shower first. And I’m going to take my time to get ready for this adventure of ours, so don’t get all antsy or anything.”

Linda didn’t say anything, just turned on her heel and left the room as soon as Patricia began to slide her sleeping shorts down her hips.

Linda knew the trip was going to be a bad idea. She just hadn’t realized it was going to be this bad.