Desperate Sims: April 2012

Roger Mitchell let a rush of morning air into his lungs as he walked down the side steps of their house, taking in that last bit of freedom before making his way to work. The gentle *click click* of heels told him his wife was right behind him, diligently walking him to his car before she made her way to her own--just like she did every morning. It was a comforting sound, though he generally forgot to notice it. It was far too easy to take the last few moments of her presence for granted.

Today, though, instead of her usual quick parting kiss, Bridget reached out a hand and pulled her husband towards her.

"You know, today's a half day at school today," she said slowly, fiddling with the front of his sweater. "The kids are going home early..."

"Really, hm?"

"Yep... and a little bird told me you only had to work the morning shift, today," she added with a suggestive smile, drawing one of his arms--then the other--towards her waist as she backed him against the rear of the car.

"As long as no one decides to start the town on fire. Why," Roger questioned with a smirk. "You have plans?"

"Maaaybe," Bridget shrugged. "Natasha's going to be spending the evening over at Josh's, so we'll have the house alll to ourselves..." She shrugged again, leaving the rest up to his interpretation.

The look in his wife's eye made the corner of Roger's mouth twitch into a smile. "Oh? Well then--I guess I'll have to make extra sure Wyatt doesn't make me stay late today, won't I?" He pulled her against his lips so quickly she didn't have time to react to his suggestion.

Man--it was nice that Natasha was finally old enough to shove out the door once in a while.

Roger's spirits were high as he watched Bridget disappear into the garage--so much so that he didn't notice a swift blur of blonde swoop behind his SVU as he climbed into the driver's seat, nor the strange clunking noise right before he pushed his key into the ignition.

It wasn't until the roar of the engine was in full rhythm that he noticed anything was wrong.

Then, it hit him.

The smell.

Roger frantically shut off his engine, but he'd been a fireman long enough to know that the odor wasn't coming from under the hood--so naturally, he turned around to look behind. What he saw was not what he expected.

"What in the bloody hell--" he slammed the door to the vehicle so hard he heard the glass rattle in the frame. "What is going on?!" Unfortunately, no one was around to answer him, so he stamped to the end of the car in disgust, trying to cover his nose from the fumes that were still pouring out of his tailpipe.

As the greenish smoke continued to rise, two giggles were quietly stifled around the corner of the house.

"That was amazing," the high-pitched squeak of Pippin's voice said cheerfully, giving Korva just the validation she needed. "Think he saw us?"

Korva shrugged, clearly not concerned. "Who cares?" After a moment, she smiled even wider--if that's even possible--and cupped her hands around her mouth. "GO GREEN OR SMELL GREEN, GAS GUZZLER!"

"What--WHY YOU LITTLE--"

It was a world of endless, gray, bitter fog in which Margo lived. Even in days where the horizon was clear, or the sky was blue, it all was only a pale imitation of the world outside this wall-less cage. Every color here seemed more dull--every cloud more weary.

Her grandmother always said that Twinbrook was a place where dreams went to die. She wasn't sure whether to believe it or not, but Margo spent every waking moment trying to prove her wrong. Dreams were all she had--she couldn't let them go.

Occasionally, though, that bittersweet reminder would come: there was at least one wishing star that hadn't yet abandoned her.

She could feel its sunshine tasting her skin. Margo let it captivate her in the way a lover would; the light left lovenotes on her eyelids, the heat lightly touched her lips, and the wind stroked its fingers through her hair. She was past the days of pretending that's what love really felt like, but she still hadn't lost hope it might be even better.

Moments like this reminded her that, despite the love of her friends and family, it just wasn't enough.

Margo barely had time to soak in the warmth before it was stolen by the same cloud she'd been eyeing dreamily only a few minutes before.

'Figures,' she sighed to herself, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the deck. 'You always leave when I need you... just like everyone else'.

Speak of the devil. "MMMAAAARGOOOOOOO, where did you run off to?!" The chipper voice had no problems traveling through the glass door separating herself from the house's interior.