It's a rainy day. Abbie is laying on her side, her left arm under her head. Her pins that hold her pin curls in place are poking through her hair net, causing white indentations on her soft, yet aging skin. Her bed comforter covers her legs and half of her abdomen. Even though she knows she's alone, she's still uncomfortable with the slight pudge developing in her belly. She watches the rain coming down from outside the window. Sometimes it's pouring, then the next second it will be a slight drizzle. It seems like she's been staring out the window for hours, attempting to convince herself to get out of bed. She hears quiet yelps and screams, either of happiness or terror. They don't help her decide whether or not to get out of bed. Eventually she rises.
After her morning mimosa she slips on one of her old vintage dresses she'd scored from her mother years ago and throws on her tattered fur coat. She slips on her floral-patterned slippers and slowly makes her way down to the store. Her body quietly tosses from side to side as she lumbers down the stairs. She feels as though with each step she's adding more years onto her already tired body. She flips on the light switches to illuminate Abbott's Dream. She cringes, but moves on. After making her way through her dingy shop she comes to rest at her register. This morning she didn't think to slip on her tights or cute heels so she'd rather leave her feet on the floor. It isn't until she catches herself in a lonely compact mirror that she realizes her pin curls are still intact. She slowly removes the hair net and some curlers roll onto the register. Today she doesn't feel like bothering to gather them up. She still hears the screams. The laughs, the quiet roar from some place near her. Reluctantly she climbs down from her chair and pokes her head out Abbott's Dream's door. She sees Lietenant Statone walking down the street, a yellow balloon in his hand accompanied by a giddy smile, and she knows. "Oh lord," she moaned quietly. "The carnies are back." Abbott's Dream's door is slammed and all that is heard is footsteps crawling back up the stairs, an occasional curler falls.
