The blackout had lasted longer than expected and Foggy finds himself mourning the items he'd just purchased beforehand as he discarded them into the trash. With the power out and his fridge already dangerously close to the FDA-approved cutoff for keeping food safe, he's got little choice but to toss away what he'd worked hard to obtain.
It's frustrating, if not downright depressing, but he tries to keep a positive mindset. He still has some canned goods — items saved for emergencies just like this — but that certainly won't last him until his next meager pay. Worse yet, his contract is about up, meaning he'll need to find another temporary source for work.
He's just coming back inside, wiping his hands against his ill-fitting jeans, when he thinks he hears a familiar voice. The low tone sends a chill right up his spine — an undeniable tingle of reminiscence — and he lets his feet move him towards it, eventually catching the movement of hair, straight and golden, like shafts of wheat glistening in the sun. Tall, strong, beautiful. The way this woman holds herself nearly solidifies his certainty even before seeing her face.
"Karen?" They're eight doors apart but the expanse feels massive and Foggy's afraid she might be some kind of illusion. Nothing so good ever comes this easy, right? And yet... "Karen Page?" His voice is almost trembling, but he's asking less tentatively, more firmly and with no lack of hope. "Please tell me that's really you."
wildcard
It's frustrating, if not downright depressing, but he tries to keep a positive mindset. He still has some canned goods — items saved for emergencies just like this — but that certainly won't last him until his next meager pay. Worse yet, his contract is about up, meaning he'll need to find another temporary source for work.
He's just coming back inside, wiping his hands against his ill-fitting jeans, when he thinks he hears a familiar voice. The low tone sends a chill right up his spine — an undeniable tingle of reminiscence — and he lets his feet move him towards it, eventually catching the movement of hair, straight and golden, like shafts of wheat glistening in the sun. Tall, strong, beautiful. The way this woman holds herself nearly solidifies his certainty even before seeing her face.
"Karen?" They're eight doors apart but the expanse feels massive and Foggy's afraid she might be some kind of illusion. Nothing so good ever comes this easy, right? And yet... "Karen Page?" His voice is almost trembling, but he's asking less tentatively, more firmly and with no lack of hope. "Please tell me that's really you."