That Which We Hate - Natalie goes home to change, and finds the apartment is not as she left it.

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That Which We Hate - Natalie goes home to change, and finds the apartment is not as she left it.

"Sure, yeah, obviously. I'm game."

Natalie couldn't say "no," of course. Even if all she wanted right now was to go back home, run a hot bath, and hide forever, she knew that absolutely would not do. She was nineteen, and this was college: spending the first weekend of her first semester huddled in her sparsely decorated apartment would be too much like setting a precedent. Why even bother being young if you're going to waste it like that?

On the other hand, she did need a break, a moment alone to re-center. The girls arranged to meet at Natalie's apartment after dinner, to head to arrive at the party together. Natalie left in a state of barely suppressed anxiety.

Yet what she found when she arrived home did little to comfort her. The apartment she found when she turned the key and opened her door had little in common with the one she had left that morning.

The living room was furnished with a pair of over-stuffed armchairs, an elderly couch creaking under the weight of a dozen throw pillows, a television, an oriental rug, and countless different footstools and end tables. Every surface was stacked with cookbooks and clocks and miscellaneous knickknacks, every corner of the room held a lamp or pot plant, and every wall was decorated with a painting of a windmill or a framed photograph.

It was, Natalie thought, like a BnB: an extreme parody of domesticity. She stumbled through the rooms in a daze. Her bedroom was as aggressively cozy as the living room--none of her clothes were to be found in the new antique mahogany wardrobe, replaced with an array of loose billowy blouses, knee-length skirts, and frumpy wool sweaters. Whatever was going on was more than just a head-cold--but she still felt oddly numb, unable to react appropriately. What would an appropriate reaction even be?

At last she ended up in the kitchen: cabinets bursting with heritage cookware, crockery, and vintage tea sets, counter-tops laden with every conceivable time-saving domestic appliance or cookware gadget. And from the oven, the unmistakable smell of baking cookies.

1. Jessica arrives, and the girls leave to go to the party.
   
2. Jessica arrives, and helps herself to one of the cookies.
   
3. Natalie's parents call.
   
4. Something else.
   

Page created by: mules on 2020-06-27 07:55:34.

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