thirty | a regretful night

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THE ONE WITH A REGRETFUL NIGHT.
EPISODE FIFTEEN

Monica was frantic about the number of books in the apartment. With the books printing rapidly, Zara had been sent numerous boxes to sign copies, so now there were stacks of books around them.

"Zara, I love you, and I'm so proud of you, but when am I getting my apartment back?" Monica questioned.

Signing another book, Zara handed it to Joey to add to the newest growing stack. "Once I'm finished, I guess. These are just exclusive versions for shops."

Already, Zara's hand ached, but she was determined to get them done. There was already talk about her book brewing; posters were being put up in shops and preorders were now available. It was all getting real and Zara felt sick — a good, giddy kind of sick.

"Hey, how much you give me to eat this whole jar of olives?" Joey questioned from the fridge, where he was rummaging through the contents, clearly bored with helping Zara now.

"I won't give you anything," Monica told him. "But you'll owe me $2.95."

"Done," Joey decided, grinning brightly.

"You were stacking my books," Zara reminded him.

"I can do both," Joey suggested.

"No," said Zara. "You're not spilling anything on my books."

"Hey," Phoebe hurried in to greet them. "I need an atlas! I need an atlas!"

"Why?" Monica questioned. "Do you have a report due?"

"I have a date with this diplomat I met while I was giving free massages outside the U.N and I don't know where his country is."

"Okay," said Monica. "Let's start with the free massages at the U.N."

"Oh, it's my new thing," Phoebe announced. "I figure bodies at peace make peace."

"Wow," Monica said. "You might just get the first Nobel prize in rubbing."

"Phoebe, you shouldn't be doing that for free," Zara told her.

"So, what country is this guy from?" Monica asked.

"Um, Inchnech...traian...istan. There's a G in there."

"I've never heard of that before," Zara said.

"Where's that?" Monica questioned.

"In your atlas," Phoebe answered.

"I don't have an atlas," Monica told her.

"Zara," Phoebe's eyes fell on her. "You must have an atlas."

"It's at school," Zara said. "Sorry, Pheebs."

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