Wordle by Wordle: Day 8
Monday, Jan 8, 2024
Wordle #933 - FINAL
Chapter 2.
The Uber driver whistles—appreciatively? mockingly?—when we pull up outside Bree and Roy’s home in Pacific Heights.
“Your friend’s got a nice place,” he remarks and eyes its façade with a sweeping look.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I say, aiming for a tone of camaraderie, and hop out of his Camry before he decides to get chatty. He pulls away, and I crane my neck to get a better look myself.
Their home is a slim three-story Victorian standing elbow-to-elbow with its siblings on either side. The sun is already setting, and it washes the home’s peachy pink siding and sugar-white latticework in a honeyed, golden glow, like a pastel gingerbread house in a friggin’ Thomas Kinkade painting.
I sigh, not ready to go in yet, and give myself a final once-over using my phone’s selfie camera. Hair: still frizzy. Glasses: crooked. Lipstick: smudged. At least there’s nothing in my teeth. With another sigh, I take the stairs up to the front porch and ring the doorbell.
Lola barks from somewhere on the second floor. The door swishes open not a moment later, as though Bree was standing there waiting for me.
“Cecilia!” Bree throws her arms around me in a hug. A quick, birdlike hug that pins my arms at my sides. I awkwardly return the embrace as best I can, but it’s over before it starts.
“Bree! It’s nice to see you.” It’s true. We last saw each other over drag brunch two months ago—her idea—but it feels so much longer. Probably because Bree was ignoring me until today, I remind myself.
“Come in, come in! Quick, before Lola gets out,” Bree says and ushers me inside before I can change my mind.
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