She’s not drunk when she sees Kelly first, her mind loosely connecting her with the office and them Jim which is more than enough reason to avoid her. Between her seat and the washroom she feels eyes on her back and suddenly she’s frozen on the spot by a gaze that doesn’t look all that friendly.

As if caught in a trance she strides, with as much dignity as she can muster, towards the bar where Kelly is slouched over something so pink it almost looks glow-in-the-dark.

“Where’s Ryan?” she asks nervously trying to unfog her brain enough to hear the answer.

She misses the response anyways, which is enough reason to have another drink as far as she’s concerned.

*

They clamour into Kelly’s car ‘This is a bad idea’ echoing between her ears as she fingers the business magazines on her lap. She struggles to find a topic of conversation that doesn’t involve work or (ex)boyfriends or Britney Spears but so far she can’t quite come up with anything.

Fumbling with her keys Kelly starts the car sloppily. She glances at the stack of magazines and shifts uneasily in her seat grimacing. “They were Ryan’s. I was planning on burning them or something…” she says quietly her eyes fixed on the steering wheel.

The warm confused sensation evaporates and she nods sagely, attempting to shift the pile out of view. She rests her head on the window and lets the silence wash over her, the distance between them widening into a canyon. She can sense Kelly glancing towards her sadly and the pressure behind her eyes intensifies. A sense of indignation and danger creeps up her spine and her lips twitch upwards. She fixes her eyes on the road, clutching the magazines tighter in her arms. The exhaustion and disappointment in her limbs ebbs away slowly, replaced with a strange determination

“Stop the car,” she says suddenly her voice ringing in the cool air.

She opens the door and leaps out, holding the magazines against her chest. She walks as quickly as she can, smiling a bit at Kelly’s bewildered expression. She reaches the bridge and breathes in the cool air, clearing her head. A cool breeze lifts her hair and cools the back of her neck as she turns back towards the car ‘you don’t need him’ a whisper she’s sure nobody will ever hear.

She rips a handful of pages out of the top magazine, relishing the tear and crinkle of the paper and thrusts the down towards the river, watching the shiny scraps fluttering downwards.

***

“I don’t even know why I work there,” Kelly babbles waving her arm energetically around the hallway as she stumbles down the hallway, “What does it offer me anyways? Michael? Andy? Dwight? Creed??”

Karen collapses against the wall giggling, tilting her head backwards as she slides down the wall her head spinning. She was seated on the floor by the time Kelly flings open her apartment door and yanks her inside by the elbow.

She hovers awkwardly in the entryway pulling feebly at her shoes; Kelly’s chatter a blurry hum in the back of her head.

“Come on!” Kelly exclaims, grabbing her elbow a second time and leading her down a hallway and into her bedroom.

She stares blearily around the room taking in the pink walls, pink bedspread, pink feather boa, before she feels herself pushed backwards into a chair.

“Sit here, I’m going to get us some drinks,” Kelly says over her shoulder as she skips out of the room.

She glances down at her half untied shoes and blinks tiredly. Leaning forward to pull them of she breathes in sharply ad her head begins to swim and she feels herself sliding forward onto the floor falling with a dull thud. She closes her eyes and rubs her forehead listening to the muffled click of glass and Kelly’s warbling voice in the other room. The sloshing in her head subsides as she pulls herself up onto the bed somehow kicking her shoes off. She perches awkwardly on the bed gazing around curiously.

Kelly’s room is kind of like something out a picture book. Soft shades of pink and flowery pillows the blur together in her head. She feels like an intruder, her jeans and stark contrast with the bedspread, her sharp angles grating against soft shades and flowing lines.

*

Kelly bursts in when she least expects it.

“I made margaritas!!” she chirps excitedly holding up a cracked orange pitcher and pink plastic cups. She clumsily pours, one hand on the bedside table to hold herself up before slamming down the pitcher and jumping onto the bed, pushing one glass into her hands.

She sips awkwardly before speaking, “So we have sooo much to talk about?” Her voice lifting a bit at the end as she dramatically falls back onto the bed so her legs dangle over the edge. “Umm…so what happened with Jim?” her voice is thinner than she’s used to hearing and she looks down, trying to find the right answer.

She hunches over her glass, the warmth of the bar drinks long gone, and mumbles a non-answer through a mouthful of margarita (nothing isn’t what anyone wants to hear). “Well…” she clears her throat

“-With Ryan I should have known. He didn’t even like the same stuff and he never made sales. That’s important right? Cause he was a salesman…” she trails off and the pause stretches out and Karen doesn’t quite know how to make this okay. (I’m not in the business of healing hearts) She tips her head forward, staring into her glass and letting her hair fall forward, forming curtains around her face.

“Sorry about the cups,” Kelly says her voice paper thin and small and frighteningly un-Kellyish, “I’ve been ordering out a lot lately and all” the room seems darker and smaller and everything is shrinking around them

“It’s okay. No problem,” she whispers clearing her throat uncomfortably. Her back is still straight but she can’t quite tell her it’s okay because her hands are shaking and the eyes are sore and it seems like maybe nothing will be okay ever again.

She lets herself fall backwards onto the bed next to Kelly, her head throbbing as it bounces.

“We didn’t like the same things and he never respected me or held my bags when we went shopping. And then he ditches me for a job?? That’s just unfair,” Kelly’s looking at her a combination of alcohol and lighting creating swirling pink ocean around them. “You know Jim set us up? You probably didn’t,” she pauses and for a moment all Karen hears is her own breath and the hum of the refrigerator in the other room. “This just sucks,” and her voice is softer than ever.

It takes a long time to reply. “Yeah” she answers and suddenly her throat is dry and her hands are sticky with margarita and she just can’t turn this so it’s better. Her cheeks are wet with tears but she doesn’t wipe them away.

She inhales as quietly as she can promising a thousand impossible things…(it’ll be okay)