Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

After dinner, the night had deepened significantly. Leda had driven herself, so she took her leave first.

Owen had his car too, and since Roseanne was his neighbor, it made sense for her to catch a ride with him.

Their old apartment building didn't have its own parking, so they had to park across the street at the mall and then walk back to their building.

On their way, they passed through a grove of cottonwood trees when suddenly a gust of wind kicked up.

Cottonwood fluff took to the air, swirling around them like a flurry of white snowflakes.

"Ah-choo-" Roseanne couldn't help but sneeze. "Sorry, I... Ah-choo-"

After several sneezes in quick succession, Owen realized she was allergic and quickly dug out a pack of tissues from his pocket, opened it, and handed her one. "Cover your nose with this and try to breathe through your mouth."

Following his advice, Roseanne found her nose felt much better.

They hurried back home.

After bidding each other goodnight at the door, Roseanne quickly closed her door and immediately let out a series of sneezes.

When she finally stopped, her nose was completely red.

Lumina City was wonderful in many ways, but the cottonwood season could be downright miserable for her.

Even after living here for nearly a decade, she never quite got used to it.

After a good ten minutes and a large glass of hot water, Roseanne started to feel better.

She opened the fridge, took out some ingredients, and began preparing her lunch for the next day at the lab.

By the time she finished, packed everything up, and cleaned the kitchen, it was almost eleven o'clock.

Glancing at the trash can filled with eggshells and wilted vegetable leaves, she sighed, resigned to her fate, and went downstairs to take out the trash. On her way back, before she could even enter the building, her phone rang.

Roseanne picked it up. "Hey, Cliff, what's up?"

"Roseanne, heads up! Murray's headed straight for you, and I couldn't stop him! He's had a bit to drink, and I'm worried he might do something rash..." Roseanne scanned her surroundings warily. Just as she was about to respond, a shadow suddenly appeared. "Ah-"

"Anne..." Murray reeked of alcohol, his cheeks flushed, his gaze on her was blurry and intoxicated.

"Roseanne? Roseanne?! What happened? Why'd you stop talking" Cliff's anxious voice came through.

Murray grabbed Roseanne's wrist, snatched the phone from her hand, and ended the call.

"First Corley, now Cliff. Roseanne, you say you don't love me, you

you're all tangled up with me.net

refuse to get back together, yet

buddies. What's that about?"

"You're drunk," Roseanne turned away, her profile cold, "I don't reason with drunkards."

"I'm a drunkard? You're calling me a drunkard?!" Murray gripped her shoulders, shaking her wildly, his voice laced with despair, "You weren't like this before. You used to care when I drank too much, worried about my stomach, how I'd feel the next day... Why? Why have you changed? Why?!"

Roseanne pushed him away.

Drunk men are weak; he was easy to escape from.

She stepped back, creating distance. "My care is reserved for those I care about."

"...Am I not one of them anymore?" Murray murmured, dazed.

"Not for a long time."

With that, Roseanne turned and ran upstairs, fearing that any delay might encourage Murray to follow.

This one-sided obsession had escalated from being merely bothersome to outright harassment. Roseanne's initial fatigue had now turned into pure disgust.

Seeing her avoid him as one would a

plague, the stunned man, as if

ē

suddenly provoked, dashed after her, reaching out in an attempt to pull her into his embrace. Instead, he caught a handful of Roseanne's hair.

She screamed.