Carly didn't know Merry Waterhouse. She wasn't a stranger, obviously: they went to the same school and they both were close with Joss. (Had been close, Carly corrected herself, feeling a little angry that that mental slip had gotten by.) She assumed, therefore, that whatever Merry was going to say it was about him. Maybe it was that he was a shithead - which Carly already knew, hello, but maybe it'd be nice to hear someone else say it too.

She'd just come home from work when she found Merry's message and told her that, yeah, she could come around. The little apartment she shared with the four others - the punk-folk band who were always practising at all hours - was a mess, but that was pretty usual. Her own room was neater simply because she didn't have as much stuff these days. Having to run away from home and leave most of it and not having her dad's credit cards had both put quite the dent in her possessions.

Out the front of the building Carly sat on a short brick fence, long bare limbs in her denim shorts and grey singlet - she refused to be in her Subway uniform for even a minute longer than was required and she wanted to enjoy every moment of summer. Lighting up a cigarette, Carly took a long drag and tried to spot stars through the fast moving ripples of cloud above.