18
Izzy’s screenplay was cracking along. She didn’t know what had happened, exactly, only that after her last visit to Mum’s she felt like someone had unstoppered her words, and they were flowing out of her in a way she hadn’t imagined possible. She didn’t know why; maybe it didn’t matter. She just knew that when she was writing, she wasn’t thinking about anything else, and that felt like a nice change of pace.
It had also been a nice excuse to avoid the house for a while, as tensions were running way too high.
She would get up, shower, and leg it out of the house in favour of holing up in a cafe somewhere, putting in her headphones, and getting to work. She would also generally do her best at avoiding her phone, but occasional texts and calls were hard to ignore. Which was how she foun
