Fracturing Facade

It was a quiet afternoon for Amber, the small radio on her table playing a soft, yet bright tune. She couldn't help the slight bounce in her step as she moved about her home, tidying up her furniture and dusting off the small knick knacks she has collected over the years.

She is rearranging her shelf of pictures when her stomach gurgles. She pauses, moving to her kitchen to search her pantries. As she hadn't gone grocery shopping in some time, the only thing inside were boxes of cereal and chips. Her fridge was equally barren, a half-empty carton of milk and a few stalks of celery occupying its space. With a heavy sigh, she almost resigns to a sad lunch.

A light bulb seems to go off and she smiles, walking back into her living room to pick up her cell phone. She quickly dialed Wren’s number, waiting for her to pick up.

“Hello?” answers her friend, and her smile widens even more.

“Hey Wren, I was just wondering—if you aren't busy, of course—do you wanna go out for lunch? There's a really nice pizza parlor I've been wanting to go to but I haven't had the chance yet.”

“Yeah, that's okay with me,” she says, and Amber gives her the address before hanging up. She quickly throws on a pair of capris and a thin-striped t-shirt, grabbing her keys and wallet before leaving her apartment.