Shame fills your heart as you hate yourself for even entertaining the thought of leaving Lauraine alone. She wouldn't run out on you, or at least you would like to think so. She stuck by you when Janet left. She was there when you lost your job. This isn't so different, is it?
You restart your pursuit, hoping Lauraine is kind enough to stay in one place long enough for you to catch up. Lucky for you, she seems to be interested in something on the tenth floor of a thirteen (uh oh, I mean fourteen) story complex. Extending her tender bottom outward as it hovers over a smaller building, Lauraine places her crane-like palms onto her slightly detracted mountain peek-resembling knee caps as she licks her fresh red lips and gazes at the contents of the tenth floor (most of which are likely scattering in a panic).
You find yourself standing eye to ankle with your titanic best friend. You've reached your destination, finally! Now what? There are so many things you want to say. You would like to ask how this happened, or what she was doing downtown, or even if there was something you could do to help. The words, however, all seem to collide with each other within your mouth, clogging your vocal cords. It takes a few minutes, but the right words do finally find their way through the traffic jam in your throat.
"What's up, good looking?", you ask, trying to sound smooth, but coming off as cliche' and corny.
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