A Pryce Worth Paying

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The wet, foggy morning was a hurried one for Aliziana. Her thoughts were racing, as she hopped around on one shoe while trying to balance on the slippery travertine floor, aimlessly putting the other shoe on. That required finesse in her exhausted state, so she held onto the wall peering into the closet for her umbrella, handbag and scarf and she managed without tumbling to the floor.

Her mornings had been too hectic recently with so many late night fights. Three sleepless nights texting, calling, rehashing - she was clearly feeling worn-down and frustrated that morning. Twisting her arms forcefully into her herringbone wool jacket, she noticed what time it was and cursed under her breath. Too much time had been wasted checking her calls for the seventh time that morning and she knew who was messaging her. Who else, Thomas!

Annoyed, she wondered why he had to be so persistent - he knew how important that day was for her but somehow he found it satisfying to grate on her nerves. Lord sakes, he has to have his own way all the time and I'm so tired of it!