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Description
When I got home that day, I felt like crying. Worse actually. A full-blown temper-tantrum seemed very attractive as I dumped my bag by the door. I settled for yanking my boots off with more force than necessary.

Five minutes later found me curled up on the sofa in my socks, still damp from the walk home. I’d put the TV on out of reflex, but I was barely aware of it as I painfully reconstructed my day in my head. I decided there was no single really bad thing that had happened; just a string of little humiliations and annoyances that had all sort of congealed into a big lump of a shit day.

Another ten minutes of wallowing in self-pity and the doorbell rang.
I got up to answer it, very much aware that my rain-tangled hair was escaping it’s ponytail and that my jeans were still soaked nearly to the knees.

Hooray, it’s my perfect roommate’s attractive boyfriend, who already thinks I’m slightly deranged! I resisted the urge to slam the door in his ruggedly handsome face

“Oh, hey Toni,” he said, only looking slightly perturbed at my bedraggled appearance, “Is Linda there?”

Philip was one of those guys who worked hard to look as good as he did. His hair certainly didn’t achieve just that I-just-got-out-of-bed-and-I’m-still-a-sexy-beast look by itself.

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve only been home since ten…just in case…”

I turned and yelled into the small apartment.

“LINDA! PHIL’S HERE!”

After a moment’s silence, I shrugged.

“Nope, not here. I presumed she was with you.”

“Well obviously not…”

The next moment’s silence was slightly more awkward. He rubbed his chin, which was sprinkled with just the right amount of manly stubble.

“It’s just that she’s not answering her phone…”

I slumped onto the doorframe and gestured wildly at the world in general.

“Look. Phil. I know she isn’t working tonight, but that’s about the only place she’s definitely not. I mean, she’s a member of about a billion clubs and societies and then there’s the evening classes and the helping at the homeless shelter…”

“She doesn’t help at the homeless shelter, does she?” interjected Phil.

“Well, no, she doesn’t,” I admitted, “But she should. The girl doesn’t give anything back to the community, unless you count the reading stories to sick kids at the hospital and that animal rescue thingy…”

Phil was looking not only puzzled but also distinctly unnerved.

“Sarcasm,” I said, “Sorry. Bad day. I’ll tell her to call you when she gets home, okay?”

“Yeah okay. Thanks.”

“Welcome. See ya.”

“Later.”

I gratefully shut the door. The first thing I did was go to my bedroom to comb out my hair. Just in case someone else’s attractive boyfriend decides to stop by, I told myself. My bed was still unmade and starting to smell slightly odd, I noted. I fished out a hairbrush from the accumulated junk on my locker.

Linda sometimes called me a magpie. It wasn’t a term of affection. She took the clutter in my room as a personal insult to her tidy-minded attitude to life. This was one of the main reasons I became even slacker about clearing it out. Besides, it was the only part of the apartment that looked as though someone with a personality actually lived there.

I knelt on my bed so as be level with the mirror. I got a slight shock. My mascara had run in the rain and was now smudged all over my face. Long lasting and waterproof, my ass. This combined with the unhealthily pale complexion, my bloodshot eyes and my black hair still sticking in wet knots to my head made for quite a disturbing picture. I looked like a vampire with a hangover.

After a brief stop to rummage through the mountain of CD’s in the corner of my room and putting on the loudest, angriest music I could find at full blast, I went to eat.

I was putting on the kettle when the fruit bowl in the center of the little round dining table caught my eye. I stared at it in bewilderment.

I had never understood the point of a fruit bowl, but Linda had insisted on having one and keeping it well filled with avocadoes and kiwis and other alternative fruity type things. For one stupid moment I got it into to my head that this thing was merely the latest addition to the unusual fruit collection. So I leaned closer. My breath caught in the back of my throat as I realised the fruit bowl was staring back at me.

There was a human eyeball neatly perched on top of the mango.

I probably should have fainted or something. Instead I stood there gaping like at it like teenage boy with his first porn magazine. It was grotesquely fascinating. You could see the tubes at the back. It was slightly bloody. It had belonged to someone with green eyes. I started to feel a bit sick and I didn’t really want to inspect it further; my main question was how the hell it had gotten there in the first place.
I sat down quite abruptly and then got up again. The eyeball was still there. It occurred to me that I really should do something about it. If I left it there, I’d have to think about it.

I remembered that Linda had latex gloves somewhere, the disposable kind. She was the kind of person who keeps latex gloves nearby. I decided to go into her room to find them. It would give me an excuse to stop looking at the eyeball.

That’s when I found her body.

I’d never really considered myself a screamer before then, but God how I screamed when I opened that door. The sheets were soaked in blood. It had been messy. I felt the searing sensation of vomit rising in my throat as I staggered backwards. I nearly fell over the couch in my rush to get out of the apartment. The music was still blaring and the TV was showing a cheesy Wednesday night sitcom as the worst day of my life drew to a close.

Description
When I got home that day, I felt like crying. Worse actually. A full-blown temper-tantrum seemed very attractive as I dumped my bag by the door. I settled for yanking my boots off with more force than necessary.

Five minutes later found me curled up on the sofa in my socks, still damp from the walk home. I’d put the TV on out of reflex, but I was barely aware of it as I painfully reconstructed my day in my head. I decided there was no single really bad thing that had happened; just a string of little humiliations and annoyances that had all sort of congealed into a big lump of a shit day.

Another ten minutes of wallowing in self-pity and the doorbell rang.
I got up to answer it, very much aware that my rain-tangled hair was escaping it’s ponytail and that my jeans were still soaked nearly to the knees.

Hooray, it’s my perfect roommate’s attractive boyfriend, who already thinks I’m slightly deranged! I resisted the urge to slam the door in his ruggedly handsome face

“Oh, hey Toni,” he said, only looking slightly perturbed at my bedraggled appearance, “Is Linda there?”

Philip was one of those guys who worked hard to look as good as he did. His hair certainly didn’t achieve just that I-just-got-out-of-bed-and-I’m-still-a-sexy-beast look by itself.

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve only been home since ten…just in case…”

I turned and yelled into the small apartment.

“LINDA! PHIL’S HERE!”

After a moment’s silence, I shrugged.

“Nope, not here. I presumed she was with you.”

“Well obviously not…”

The next moment’s silence was slightly more awkward. He rubbed his chin, which was sprinkled with just the right amount of manly stubble.

“It’s just that she’s not answering her phone…”

I slumped onto the doorframe and gestured wildly at the world in general.

“Look. Phil. I know she isn’t working tonight, but that’s about the only place she’s definitely not. I mean, she’s a member of about a billion clubs and societies and then there’s the evening classes and the helping at the homeless shelter…”

“She doesn’t help at the homeless shelter, does she?” interjected Phil.

“Well, no, she doesn’t,” I admitted, “But she should. The girl doesn’t give anything back to the community, unless you count the reading stories to sick kids at the hospital and that animal rescue thingy…”

Phil was looking not only puzzled but also distinctly unnerved.

“Sarcasm,” I said, “Sorry. Bad day. I’ll tell her to call you when she gets home, okay?”

“Yeah okay. Thanks.”

“Welcome. See ya.”

“Later.”

I gratefully shut the door. The first thing I did was go to my bedroom to comb out my hair. Just in case someone else’s attractive boyfriend decides to stop by, I told myself. My bed was still unmade and starting to smell slightly odd, I noted. I fished out a hairbrush from the accumulated junk on my locker.

Linda sometimes called me a magpie. It wasn’t a term of affection. She took the clutter in my room as a personal insult to her tidy-minded attitude to life. This was one of the main reasons I became even slacker about clearing it out. Besides, it was the only part of the apartment that looked as though someone with a personality actually lived there.

I knelt on my bed so as be level with the mirror. I got a slight shock. My mascara had run in the rain and was now smudged all over my face. Long lasting and waterproof, my ass. This combined with the unhealthily pale complexion, my bloodshot eyes and my black hair still sticking in wet knots to my head made for quite a disturbing picture. I looked like a vampire with a hangover.

After a brief stop to rummage through the mountain of CD’s in the corner of my room and putting on the loudest, angriest music I could find at full blast, I went to eat.

I was putting on the kettle when the fruit bowl in the center of the little round dining table caught my eye. I stared at it in bewilderment.

I had never understood the point of a fruit bowl, but Linda had insisted on having one and keeping it well filled with avocadoes and kiwis and other alternative fruity type things. For one stupid moment I got it into to my head that this thing was merely the latest addition to the unusual fruit collection. So I leaned closer. My breath caught in the back of my throat as I realised the fruit bowl was staring back at me.

There was a human eyeball neatly perched on top of the mango.

I probably should have fainted or something. Instead I stood there gaping like at it like teenage boy with his first porn magazine. It was grotesquely fascinating. You could see the tubes at the back. It was slightly bloody. It had belonged to someone with green eyes. I started to feel a bit sick and I didn’t really want to inspect it further; my main question was how the hell it had gotten there in the first place.
I sat down quite abruptly and then got up again. The eyeball was still there. It occurred to me that I really should do something about it. If I left it there, I’d have to think about it.

I remembered that Linda had latex gloves somewhere, the disposable kind. She was the kind of person who keeps latex gloves nearby. I decided to go into her room to find them. It would give me an excuse to stop looking at the eyeball.

That’s when I found her body.

I’d never really considered myself a screamer before then, but God how I screamed when I opened that door. The sheets were soaked in blood. It had been messy. I felt the searing sensation of vomit rising in my throat as I staggered backwards. I nearly fell over the couch in my rush to get out of the apartment. The music was still blaring and the TV was showing a cheesy Wednesday night sitcom as the worst day of my life drew to a close.