Chapter 39

• The pace at which a bathroom can turn from a mundane utility to a safe haven was rarely lost on Roxanne. She hadn’t fully remembered the calming effect that a door with a lock on it can have ever since she was a child, no matter how flimsy or old the lock might be, but now it welcomed her like an oasis in a desert. After Jake walked away from their little circle, leaving a deeply uncomfortable silence in his wake, she barreled through the faceless bodies occupying Mrs. Hannigan’s house until she caught the scent of bleach and pine, potentially cutting someone off on their way to the restroom before locking the door behind her.
• After suffering under his scrutiny, everything around her felt too hot, like she was suffocating in her skin. In a frenzy, she tore off her pantyhose (leaving her in just her wrap skirt that was probably too short for a wake) and stuffed them into her bag. She unraveled the tan, brown strap from her shoulder, followed by her black wool blazer, hanging them up haphazardly by the door before pinching the front of her blouse, tugging on it rapidly to encourage some airflow.
• She splashed some water onto her face, ripped a handful of tissues from the box on the counter and stuffed them under her armpits, and desperately tried to adjust her buns to give herself some semblance of composure.