Work Text:
When she opened the door, she wished it was her.
It was foolish, she knew that. It was just delivery, the personal pizza she ordered earlier.
Yvette wasn’t coming back.
She paid and tip them, then shut the door. She leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes and wishing. Not for anything in particular. Or maybe something very particular.
But Yvette wasn’t coming back.
She walked to the kitchen, placing the pizza on the counter while she got a plate. She wished she thought of getting the paper plates at the supermarket yesterday.
She wished Yvette came back.