Fabrications

• 3| ice breakers •

[to all unable to let go of your past for some reason. to all who are haunted by all you have or shouldn't have done.]

• • • •

Debra continued to fidget with each passing minute, glancing over at her phone for a clear confirmation that time hadn't proceeded since the last time she'd checked— merely two seconds beforehand. She absolutely hated reserving seats especially when it involved more than just one of them. Waiters made their way into making sure the extra silverware around her would be put to good use once the rest of her party arrived.

"Ma'am, are you sure the rest of your guests will be arriving?" The young man's tone was as cautious as ever, adding a pitiful smile at the woman surrounded by empty seats.

"Yes," Debra countered. Her eyes scanned the premises with anticipation. Portobello's was known for its reoccurring support from the community. No matter the hour or day of the week, the restaurant seemed to never have busy hours as opposed to just busy days in general. Groups would file in on the regular back to back; with two parties leaving, three more would arrive. Surely, the rest of the space Debra was reserving could be used for other parties waiting.

"Perhaps we could bring you over to a smaller table?"

"No—" a relieved sigh escaped her lips the minute Kenneth waltzed into the restaurant. "See? They're filing in now." The blonde displayed a sheepish smile towards the waiter in reassurance as he nodded politely.

"Sorry," Kenneth mumbled, taking a seat across from Debra. He gave a swift nod towards the waiter, who had asked what he wished to drink. Kenneth ordered a beer, and with that, a nod was reciprocated as they watched the waiter leave the table.

"What the hell is going on?" Debra hissed, "I've been waiting for 30 minutes and I'm convinced everyone here thinks I was sitting with my imaginary friends."

Kenneth shrugged without a clue. "Parent-teacher conference. But I have no idea where Meredith could be."

Debra had taken a chance the night before. Shortly after Meredith had arrived home from having frozen yogurt with Kenneth, she'd received a call from the blonde telling her to invite people over for the impromptu Portobello's lunch date for the following night. She was well aware of what the date would be, making it that much unnerving to realize Meredith wasn't waltzing into the restaurant just yet. Although the brunette swore her birthday was great, Debra couldn't help but wonder if a short break from everyday life could revive her best friend's spirits. The guilt was slowly creeping upon her veins, Debra noticed, and she wanted nothing more than for her best friend to arrive in order to propose her idea of a late birthday present.

"Have you talked to her today?" the blonde inquired solemnly. She couldn't believe how eerily close she was in finally speaking about the tragedy ominously looming over their heads.

"Yeah. Only in the morning, though."

Debra lifted her gaze up to his own eyes, almost hesitant in speaking about something so morbid, especially without Meredith's own consent. "How did she sound?"

"Just like she sounds every year whenever the day comes," Kenneth muttered. "She can't let it go."

"There's nothing to let go of. It was an accident. She was just 12 years old for God's sake."