Emilene lifted her head slowly, rolling her shoulders back one at a time. She left the table, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand. Precious sleep, was so close. And that coffee wasn’t helping to stop its path.
She couldn’t be mad at the person on the other side of the door; five at night isn’t the time to go to bed when you’re under the age of seventy-six. However, Emilene felt groggy- just enough to forget to look through the peephole or even to bother opening her eyes more than half-way.
Opening the door felt harder than it should have been. Maybe she needed to dig into Kat’s room- she would have something to keep her awake before eight pm.
And there stood Patrick. Awkward and nervous and trying to play it cool Patrick.
Emilene’s eyes opened wider and she blinked a few times, trying to make it look like she had been doing anything but acting hungover without any use of alcohol.
"Hey," she smiled, her voice hoarse from not talking for a number of hours.