She takes the pillow from her face and millions of thoughts race through her mind - she thinks that she will stay, that she will just stay. She'll be all right - she'll just go to sleep. Everything will be fine. But something snaps. Anger bubbles up from her stomach, reaches her chest, engulfs her head, and she sits up, pillow clenched in her gnarled hands.
"I'm fucking out of here."
"What!?!"
"Yeah, this is fucked up. You hit me in the face with that fucking pillow. I'm not 18 anymore. I'm fucking 25, I don't have to deal with any bullshit ever again."
"You're fucking crazy."
She rips off the borrowed clothes, puts her clothes back on, flips on the light, pulls on her Kate Spades, and slips into the living room, where NE is half-ready to go. She was stealthy, quiet , even sly, but for no reason. She was trying to exit without making a scene, but why? Why the sudden urge to comply with social standards?
"Ok, your roommate is freaking me out. I have to go, I have to go. I can't do this, I'm freaking out," she whispers.
"Oh my God, ok - no, it's fine."
"So you won't be mad at me or anything?"
"No, no, no - don't worry. Go! You'll be ok?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine." She is hurrying. She is speeding towards the door.
"Be careful!" NE closes the door behind her. She is so, so upset. She feels like this is awful, the worst, the most overreacted moment in her life - she's furious, she's crying, she's moving too quickly for the 3" heels, her life is in....
She
falls
down
the
stairs