Veronica stumbled through the door, her arms laden with numerous brown paper bags. Bending over, she let them fall to the floor and headed out to get the rest. After lugging all the bags in, she closed and locked the door, pulling her gloves and coat off. No matter how she bundled up, the chill still managed to find it’s way through her clothes. She blew on her hands, stepping over the various bags and heading into her room to change into something warm. After changing, she made her way out and started the tedious task of putting the groceries away, why couldn’t she bring someone back from the store to do it for her? They helped load it into her car, why couldn’t they put the stuff away too? She supposed that was asking too much. Setting a box she had in her hand down, she headed back into her room and got a CD, coming back out and putting it into the player and walking back into the kitchen to finish unloading the groceries.
A soft smile spread over her lips when she heard the voice of Nick Carter fill the room, she really was goofy when it came to him.
Her thoughts drifted to the letter, it’d been a few days, and he’d have gotten the letter by now. If she were to get a response, she figured it’d be within a few weeks or so, if he even wrote back and depending on when he did. Sighing, she cursed herself inwardly for even thinking of what it’d be like, she sent a letter to a fan club for crying out loud, what in the hell was she expecting? Finishing up unloading the groceries, she started in on dinner. Still, she found she’d be happy with even some stupid form letter with her name written in and a photocopy of his signature at the bottom, anything so she knew that her letter had been received and maybe even looked at by someone who was even an acquaintance to him. It was driving her crazy though, and she was sick of it, sick of the wondering and sick of the waiting for something that obviously wasn’t going to happen any time soon, if ever. She would stop thinking about it, it was as simple as that, no longer would she care and pretty soon it’d just be a memory.
While dinner was cooking, she made her way into her bedroom to get her clothes set out for work in the morning, her usual ritual on Sunday’s. She needed to wash, it was still early in the afternoon and hopefully no one was using the machines downstairs. Her mind made up, she looked around her room for anything dirty to contribute to the hamper in the bathroom, but much to her dismay, her thoughts floated back to the letter.
Pretending that she didn’t care was harder than she thought, and now that she’d thought about it, she couldn’t get it out of her head. It was her own fault, she never should’ve thought about it in the first place, but she just couldn’t help it, it was natural. Anyone in her situation would be doing the same thing or worse, at least she didn’t have fantasies of actually getting a response. Veronica wasn’t letting it effect her life or her daily routine, not much anyway.
Gathering up the few dirty clothes she found from her room, she set them in the hamper in the bathroom, grabbing various wash clothes from out of there as well to add and pulled the hamper out, separating the clothes into proper piles and into individual baskets. Getting up quarters and soap power and such, she made her way down to the washer and dryer.
