The Run From

“Are you in the car yet?” asked Greg.

“Does it look like I’m in the car?” replied Stacy.

Greg was wearing his regular work outfit. A button up white shirt, a pair of thin gray slacks, a red tie.

“We’re not going to make it if you don’t hurry.” he said.

“Then leave without me.”

Stacy stood in front of the mirror trying to make something out of the tangle of strawberry hair.

“My boss is gonna be at this event, I don’t wanna be late.” he said.

She conceded defeat and pulled the whole mess back into a thick pony tail.

“I’m coming, I’ll be right there.”

Greg was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Stacy hated it when he waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. It reminded her of Sunday mornings and her mother.

“See here I am. Are we ready now?” she said.

“We’ve been waiting on you.”

Greg grabbed a gray newsies cap and swept out the door. Stacy took one last look at herself in the mirror across the livingroom, then followed him out.

“I think we’ll be alright. I think we’ve got time.”

“We’ll be fine. You never wanna be the first people to a party anyway.” Stacy said.

Greg smirked.

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