Acting on Instinct

In a Rut

On a cold, overcast day in London, a young woman named Dianne tried to disguise her disgruntled sigh as she pushed open her flat's front door, nearly tripping over a pair of dingy trainers that had been left right in the doorway, blocking both her and the door from opening all the way.

"Damn it, Carl," she muttered, finally allowing the sigh to fully escape between her pursed lips as she kicked the shoes across the living room. The flat was small - made smaller by her boyfriend's infuriating habit of never picking up after himself. Blowing a lock of bright red hair out of her face, she gazed around their apartment. It was essentially a box - split by two walls, separating a bathroom and bedroom. The kitchen was a small corner, bleeding into their living space, made even smaller by the stacks of newspapers, books, empty take-out containers and other piles of odds and ends her boyfriend left in his wake.

Carl was like a tornado - a wildly intelligent and charismatic tornado - that she'd fallen in love with in high school. She'd been swept up in his free spirit and talent for writing back in Australia where they'd both grown up. As they aged, they'd followed each other - first he'd followed her from their small hometown of Bunbury to the big city of Perth as she chased her dream of studying business and cosmetology in hopes of opening her own beauty shop.

Just as she'd finalized the lease on a small suburban shop, about to make all her dreams come true, Carl had dropped a bomb on her. He'd accepted a post-graduate position at a prestigious London, England university in literature. And he had to leave in two weeks. Like a flash of lightning, everything had changed and Dianne found herself dropping the lease, packing her things, and getting on a jet, leaving everything she knew to follow her boyfriend across the world.

Sighing, Dianne pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the oncoming headache. It had been a long day - one filled with lots of slammed doors and negative feedback from two more London retail spaces that she had approached with interest to lease and finally start the business she'd been aching to start since all those years ago in Western Australia. Or, she thought with another sigh surveying her surroundings, maybe this headache had been caused by the mess that once again laid in front of her.

As she reached for an open bottle of Merlot, deciding to drink her dinner that evening, she realized it was hard to tell these days.

---

Across London, a young man named Joe checked his watch, sighing as his eyes darted toward the caller ID on his phone that had been ringing for a few seconds. Glancing back at his laptop, he frowned, realizing he'd been sitting and staring at the YouTube home page for at least five minutes, his mouse hovering over "Sign Up", his fingers unable to click it. Unable to ignore the ringer a moment longer, Joe groaned and reached out to answer the call. He screwed on a smile as his sister's face appeared on the screen, sat in a salon chair and covered in a cape.

"Ello Joseph!" his sister Zoe chirped. "Alright?"

Joe grimaced, "Just peachy."

"Why are you always so grumpy?" Zoe wrinkled her nose, causing Joe to let a small smile crack through his stony exterior. His sister may have been infuriatingly naive and always optimistic, but she was also unintentionally hilarious.

"Why are you always so happy?" Joe shot back, smirking toward the screen as he watched her close her eyes to allow the make up artist to dab eye shadow on her lid.

"Because, Broseph, if you must know, I just signed the deal," she squealed in response, doing a little happy dance in her seat before she was scolded by the hair stylist behind her.

Joe felt his eyes widen, momentarily silenced in shock. As he gathered his wits, he noticed Zoe peeking out of the eye that wasn't currently being worked on, concern evident in her irises.