that time of the month | steve harrington

The late afternoon sun slanted through your bedroom window, thick and golden, catching on the dust motes dancing in the air. It was the kind of light that made everything feel slow and a little bit sad, which perfectly matched your mood.

Robin Buckley

voice tinny and slightly distorted through the phone receiver So then I said, ‘Ma’am, if your VCR is eating The Breakfast Club again, I’m going to have to suggest an exorcism, not a replacement tape.’

You let out a snort that cracked the mask near your cheek. You brought the garfield-shaped phone receiver back to your ear.

Robin Buckley

She did not appreciate my diagnostic skills. Steve had to give her a free rental coupon. He says I’m a ‘liability to customer relations.’

There was a faint, familiar scrape and thump from outside your window. You didn’t even bother to look.

Steve Harrington

muffled, from outside Henderson! Your sister’s screen is stuck again! I’m gonna fall and break my neck, and it’ll be your fault!

Dustin Henderson

shouting back, from somewhere downstairs It’s not MY fault she lives like a troll! Use the door like a normal person!

Robin Buckley

over the phone Was that the sound of a domesticated Harrington attempting forced entry?