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Timothy's monitor powered down to reveal a blurred reflection of his haggard face. The clock had finally hit 5. It was time to go home. His goodbyes to his coworkers were as tepid as the ones they gave him. Nobody asked what he had planned for the night because none of them cared. He knew that because he didn't care about them either. Nobody did, not in that building. He gathered his raincoat and took the elevator to the main lobby. Looking out the front door he saw that it was still raining. Of course it was. It hadn't stopped since last night. He stepped through the automatic door and out into the sidewalk, minimalized by the towering building behind him. He recalled the time when this entire block was a booming haven of innovation and industry, the place people went to make their dreams come true. Now it was vacant and cold, bereft of anything that could disguise itself as hope. The Roman villa had been sacked and occupied by the Saxons.

Timothy's journey home from work was a short one, but felt so, so long. Between the office building and his apartment, it was only a 12 minute walk but in those 12 minutes he was forced to bear witness to the city's many vagabonds and wastes. Through a suffocating alleyway of brutalist facades cracked and moist from the perpetual rain he walked, listening to the gutters gurgle and car tires slice through the curb puddles. His only source of comfort in color were the dimly flashing streetlights, white, green, yellow, and red. Parting the city blocks were two laned roads hardly ventured by privately owned cars. Sputtering by would usually be a sickly yellow cab or a sparsely filled city bus. People rarely ever honked. No pedestrians walked the roads, seeing that unflinching strip of asphalt as a no-man's land separating them from the block beyond.

Timothy kept to himself throughout his walk, head hunched and his hands in his pockets. The most he would carry with him would be a plastic bag of groceries if he ever took the time to stop by someplace and buy them. His long, drab raincoat would hang off him and dangle around his shins, as was mandatory in such a soaked environment. Between breaks in the downpour the sun could not shine for very long until the next burst of showers abrogated it. Whatever he carried was held closely to his side, as was habit with anything he bought. There were those desperate enough to reach into the space of others for something valuable. There were many homeless lining the sidewalks, but Timothy was hardly bothered by them. Most of them knew better than to try and beg for food. They knew they wouldn't get any, not from Timothy or anyone else.

The apartment he lived in was one of the many buildings subsidized by the city to become a residential. Formally an office building, it was smack in the middle of what had once been a business district. Now it was where several thousand folks lived in order to have some form of affordable housing that wasn't homeless. Tall, rectangular, and bereft of even the faintest personality or flare, it was the absolute best a great majority of folk could afford given what a pit of decay and squalor could offer them.

Timothy wandered into the lobby with a bundle of groceries in each hand. The automatic doors slid shut behind him, muffling the hum of the rain fall. He peeled his hood off his head, revealing a greasy mop of blonde hair. His jaw was grizzled and heavyset. Bags hung under his eyes noticeably, dulling the blue color of his irises. The lobby was empty but for a row of elevators. Much of the first floor was empty space given its former existence as office space. He dinged an elevator and stepped inside its blurred stainless-steel confines. He clicked the fifth-floor button and waited. Ding. The door slid open to reveal a woefully spaced hallway unable to fit two grown men side-by-side. There was little space between the dozens of doors that lined both walls from end to end. They were each painted in a flat green, peeling at the corners, dotted in their centers by brass peepholes.

Timothy wandered over to his right for his apartment. From the end of the hallway came two children, their tiny feet stamping on the carpet floor wildly. One was a human girl, maybe five or six years old. Her friend was a lizard doused in bright orange scales and wearing a blue shirt riddled with holes. They came scampering towards him, smiling brightly and giggling their little heads off. Speeding down the hallway, they hardly noticed Timothy who couldn't help but smile himself. He stepped aside and put his back to the wall. They shot past him, shirt tails flapping, bare feet thumping, the lizard's tail whipping behind him.

He watched them disappear around the other end of the hallway before he continued his slow walk to his apartment. It was apartment 513, indicated by an engraved bronze square in the center of the door. He leaned down and put the groceries on the floor so he could fish out his keys. He rattled them out, drew the door key, and unlocked it. The door opened halfway before meeting some resistance. Peering through the gap he saw full trash bags piled in front of the entrance. She didn't get rid of these? He had to shove the door the rest of the way open just so he could squeeze himself through.

The sight was an expected one but depressing all the same. 513 only had one window to the outside, and it was on the very far end of the floor. With the sun blotted out by the rain, there was little to no light other than the bubble TV that flickered in front of the sofa. Piled around the furniture were miniature stacks of trash, some of which went back several days or weeks. Empty paper cups, plates, plastic tags, and straws all made themselves home on the severely stained white carpet. There were trash bags everywhere, filled, but not disposed of. They sagged this way and that, bulging with their contents and begging to be rid of. The smell was something awful, like fetid water left to sit in an abandoned cistern. With it was the throat-clinging taste of tobacco, a vice he had been trying and failing to shake.

Said roommate was on the couch, splayed on her back, videogame controller in paw. Misty, the unemployed mouse girl Timothy had been living with for the past year, was deeply involved in what appeared to be an intense fantasy game. Timothy saw the back of her head propped up on the couch's backrest and some pillows. It was an erratic bush of pink-dyed hair sprouting a pair of tall mouse ears the color of hazel. Her long, slender wormtail was cocked over the backrest of the couch where it hung motionless. Her mostly bare legs were kicked out in front of her, one heel folded over the other.

Timothy walked over to behind the couch. She didn't acknowledge him or even register his presence. Her fingers flicked away at the controller, hitting buttons and jostling the sticks at seemingly random intervals. A half-empty liter of coke sat in the cradle of her arm. On the floor was an empty bag of Cheeto puffs propped up against the sofa for her convenience. The remnants were smeared across the fingertips of her right paw, flaking off on the controller as she used it. Her only outfit was a white t-shit with the logo of her favorite band RATT emblazoned on it. Beneath it were some tight shorts that only just fell below the bottom cusp of her ass.

Timothy's face withered in disgust. The mess she had left her with had only gotten worse. Looking into the kitchen he saw an even greater pile of dishes clogging the sink. He sighed. “Hey," he said.

She didn't flinch. “Hey."

Looking at her shirt he saw the thin outline of sweat stains surrounding her pits and underneath her breasts. Her top row of nipples poked into the fabric. He stared into the reflective inside of the half-crumpled Cheeto bag. “Look, I don't expect you to cook or anything, but can you at least clean up after yourself?"

She shook her head, the first bit of bodily movement since he walked in. “Can't. I'm on this grind right now and letting it go won't do me any good."

His brow furrowed into a scowl. “Seriously? You can't take a break for 5 minutes?"

“Nope." she said. “I'm on a 3x multiplier right now. Can't let that go to waste."

Timothy had no idea what the hell that meant, but apparently it was an excuse for her to sit on her ass all damn day with her back skin fusing into the upholstery. Timothy pictured himself having to pry her off with a comically oversized spatula.

“By the way," she said, stopping him on his way to the kitchen. “Your credit card is maxed out. I wanted to order a pizza."

Timothy's shoulders slumped, shifting the groceries in their bags. “What did you buy?"

Her eyes cut over at him. In the dull light of the TV he could just barely make out the amber color of her irises. “Nothing. It was maxed."

“Then what did you try to buy?"

Her eyes returned to the game. “Didn't you hear what I said? A pizza."

He hung his head and scratched the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “Fuck. Alright. I'll get it figured out later."

“Thanks."

“Yeah, you're welcome."

He went into the kitchen and dropped the groceries on the counter. Opening the fridge, he saw an outdated milk gallon and a few leftovers contained in paper plates and saran wrap. He loaded the fridge up and put the rest in the pantry. It was a moment's comfort not to see cockroaches scattering at the sight of the light, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He made a mental note to purchase some Raid but knew damn well that he would forget it.

He trudged into his bedroom where he peeled off his raincoat and hung it in his closet. That left him in his work clothes: a button up white shirt, some khaki pants, and a bright red tie. The latter hung loosely from his lapel. Untying it the rest of the way off was always satisfying, like symbolically bringing an end to his day. Of course, there was still shit to do. He had to do some of the dishes, maybe not all of it, just put a dent into it. There was the credit card to deal with, no doubt a result of Misty's incredible spending habits. Her collection of retro games and various memorabilia was extensive, courtesy of both the city's welfare program and Timothy's now vanquished credit card.

He tossed his tie onto the unmade spring mattress and took the rest of his clothes off. He wandered naked into the bathroom where he turned the shower on. The head jittered and sputtered for several seconds before jettisoning what could only barely be classified as a full stream. Timothy stood there, scratching his bare ass and waiting for it to get hot. He lifted a hairy arm into the stream, flattening the hairs to his skin. Nope. Still lukewarm. He counted to 30 and put his arm back in again. Nice and hot. He stepped inside and slid the curtain closed behind him.

The water fell down his greasy scalp, clumping the hair into tick tendrils that dripped down the front of his face and the back of his neck. He lurched his head back, aiming his face right into the stream. Smooth liquid piled down the flanks of his cheeks and piddled down his chin. He rubbed the tips of his fingers into his cheeks, trying to massage the rest of his fatigue out of his mind. That would be tough. Even amid a soothing spray, he couldn't melt away the rest of his exhaustion, especially when he knew there would be more waiting for him in the near future. Tomorrow he would be at work again, filing paperwork, answering phone calls, delivering messages, all that jazz. It was a fate he and too many other workers suffered through on a weekly basis, all to ensure they could keep a mold-ridden roof over their head and not get evicted. Coming home would not offer any respite, not in such a filthy den he wouldn't expect a slug to survive in. He'd see Misty on the couch, playing that same damn game, burning his and the city's money, wasting herself like the worst kind of sloth.

He sighed. It was best not to dwell on it, although as the days moved on that became harder and harder. Timothy cleaned himself off and killed the shower. After toweling himself off he put on some jeans and a T-shirt. To none of his surprise, he found Misty in the exact same position he had left her.

“You gonna order us some pizza?" she asked.

“Well, not with my credit card."

“Yeah. You got cash, right?"

“Yeah."

“OK, just pay them when they get to the door. That's how everyone else does it."

He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I know." He sauntered over to behind the couch where he could get a view of the TV screen. Watching what she was doing offered nothing in the way of explaining what the hell was going on. A bunch of overly designed Japanese anime characters were all fighting each other to some odd rhythm or scheme he couldn't quite parse. He may not have known what the big deal was, but he figured that if he ever sat down an played it that maybe he'd get as addicted as she was. No thank you, he thought while drawing a cigarette from his pocket. Don't need another addiction in my life.

He popped a stick into his mouth and lit it with a disposable lighter. The tip glowed bright orange, sizzling audibly as his lungs inhaled a cancerous smoke he hated to love. He pulled the cigarette from his lips with a gasp. Rancid heat blistered in his chest before it came pluming out with a single sigh.

Misty's nose crinkled. “Can you not do that so close to me? It's distracting."

“Oh yeah?"

“Yeah. You know I don't like that stuff."

“Oh, I know." He pointed at the empty Cheeto bag. “But you're into that stuff. You inhale it like a damn vacuum."

She spotted the bag. “Oh yeah, well at least it's healthier than those cancer sticks."

“Maybe, but it'll kill you all the same."

“Not before the cancer kills you."

“Hey, I'm just trying to die before I get dementia."

“Oh yeah?"

“Yeah. By the way, what's your name again?"

She scoffed. “Real funny."

“Mmhmm." He took another drag, reluctantly obliging her request and walking towards the kitchen where he opened the window and exhaled there. It was still raining, albeit with a tamer drizzle. It was getting dark out, dousing the riverside and the neighboring city borough in a nightly hue. The office building rode the flanks of the river, formerly prime real estate. Here was not only where businessmen sold their trade, but earned a real living that could both sustain them and their families and forge a real future. All that burned out in a series of economic crashes and bad decision making. That whole swath of the city, and virtually the rest of the world, emptied out what hope it had into the gutter. Gone were the gay colors of hope and virtue, in the stagnant canvas of concrete gray.

After his next exhale of smoke came the smell of wet city, one both depressing and refreshing. He shared it with over a million others, those who struggled like he did and worse. On an elevated plane above the dismal swamp he could spare himself, for sometime at least, the intimacy of those who would be quick to rob or berate him for some money. They suffered in the same gulley he did, but he was not one of them, he thought. He was not the one who put them there, nor was he the one who put himself where he was now. They were not cogs in a machine, but a box of broken toys and severed parts, all allotted to the same space but hardly fit to be together. That's how he saw it, as did so many others. Was there something he could do to help himself? Probably, but he'd be damned if he knew what that was.

Then there was Misty. Where was she in all of this? He turned around and watched her play her game. Their fate as roommates was purely coincidental. He could've gotten any roommate in the world, be they a fellow human, a shrewd naga, an aging dwarf, a winging mole, or any other kind of anthro. Nope. He got Misty, the girl who he let messy the apartment while leeching off of his credit card and his fellow taxpayer. There were ways to get rid of her. He could put in a complaint with the city, maybe lie about some crime she committed.

But Timothy wouldn't do any of that. He was a cynical bastard, not a monster. Misty barely had the means to live in an apartment with one other person. She'd be eaten alive out on the street, perhaps selling her body, doing drugs, or both. Thinking about that kind of thing made him uncomfortable. She didn't deserve that. Nobody did. Whatever her sloth and gluttony cost him and herself, it wasn't punishable by banishment.

But it still pissed him off.

She caught him looking at her from the kitchen. “What's that look for?"

“What look?"

“That look, like you're gonna do something to me."

“I'm not gonna do nothing to you."

“No? Well that's disappointing."

“Why? You want me to?"

“I dunno. Do you?"

“I said no."

“OK. Are you gonna order pizza?"

He inhaled deeply. “I don't know. I don't think so. I'd rather work on my credit card before we buy something out of here."

“It's just pizza."

“Yeah, but that shit adds up overtime," he said as he looked around at the trash bags still lying around.

“Yeah, I guess. You gonna cook something for us?"

He was taking a deep drag on his cig, looking up at the ceiling lights. They were still off, leaving the brightest light his glowing tobacco. “I don't think so," he said after exhaling.

“No?"

“No."

“But you won't order pizza?"

“I don't want to, but I want to cook even less."

“Then order some pizza, why don't ya."

“That's not what I'm getting at."

She paused the game and looked over at him with a frown. “Getting at? What do you mean?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The cigarette dangled from his lips. “You want to go somewhere to eat?"

That caught her off guard. Her brow lifted. “Oh. Um…" She looked at the TV and then at her controller. “Sure, I guess. I just need to… get up I guess."

Timothy chuckled. “That's the point."

She snickered too. “Sure. Why not?" She lifted her paw from her controller and grabbed at the air. “Little help?"

“What, have you fused to the couch already? Need me to get a spatula?"

“That'll work. Maybe get one of those pizza platters."

Timothy waltzed over and grabbed her paw. To his dismay it was the one crusted with Cheeto dust. He peeled her off the couch, unleashing an unholy stench of sweat that had been sandwiched between her and the cushions. The back of her shirt was see-through. A Misty-shaped depression was left behind in the upholstery. She stood up for the first time in over an hour and did a big stretch. “Whoo… Feels good to move." Timothy heard her tendons pop. His eyes drifted to her chest where he could still see the jut of her nipples. The bell of her shirt lifted off her waist, revealing her bottommost row of pink teats. She caught him looking and flashed her tits at him. “Here, have a better look."

His head rocketed to the side, averting his gaze. “Whoa! OK…"

She cackled and dropped her shirt. “Oh hush. Don't act like you don't sneak peeks at me," she said while strutting past him to the bathroom.

His heart was pounding and his face had turned red. “I do not, thank you very much."

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever."

She took a brief but badly needed shower while Timothy put his rain jacket back on and a pair of boots. Misty came back out with a much more orderly head of hair, a different t-shirt that was several sizes too big for her, and a pair of shredded jeans. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, twitching her beady mouse nose and the long whiskers that sprouted from them. “You ready?" she asked.

He took another drag from his cigarette before burning it out on the kitchen counter and tossing it into the trash. “Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

Joe's pizza was the closest pizza place to their apartment out of the several dozen that existed within the city. Timothy and Misty were among their most regular customers, if mostly by delivery. This was their first time stepping into the place physically in a very long time, so when the manager, a portly crocodile fellow with an overzealous Mediterranean accent, saw them he didn't recognize them. They took a window seat, watching the blurry tendrils of water race their way down the glass. A great bustle of patrons coming and going went on around them. The chefs would call out an order number and a delivery boy would snatch it up and run out of the place for their bikes. The phone would ring every five minutes, ending with a curt slam onto the hook followed by a shout of the order.

It wasn't the most peaceful establishment, but it beat the hell out of eating in a gross apartment. Timothy and Misty both ordered a coke and put in their order. They asked for a large pepperoni, something they knew they wouldn't finish here but could bring the rest of back to the apartment, adding to the motley pile of festering leftovers. For now, though, they could both look forward to some genuine heat in their bellies.

Misty looked small in the booth seat across from Timothy. Her fidgety mouse hand gripped the neck of the Coke glass with spindly, pink fingers. She sipped at it through a straw, the paper wrapping of which she had blown at Timothy like a tiny cruise missile. Once again, he was caught staring at her. “What?" she asked.

“Nothing."

“My ass. You keep looking at me."

He scratched his head, purely an excuse to look down. “Sorry."

“Don't be. I know I'm gorgeous. You know, you do that a lot."

“Oh yeah?"

“Yeah, and I don't mean just at me. I see you staring off into space a lot, like you're in a whole different world."

He sighed. “Yeah, it feels that way sometimes, like I'm somewhere else."

She scoffed. “Mind if I join you? Anywhere that ain't this place'd be great."

“Aw, come on. It ain't that bad. We order from them every week."

“No, not this place, dummy. I mean here." She gestured around herself broadly. “The city, the country, you know."

“Oh yeah," he chuckled weakly. “You're right."

“Got a lot on your mind?"

“Yeah, sometimes."

“I bet." She was silent for a moment. “Sorry for keeping the place messy. Been trying to get off that game, but it's tough."

“Tough to get off of a couch?"

“Physically, no. Mentally, it's the fuckin' Olympics. I swear I'm not doing it on purpose. Well, kinda. I don't know. I tell myself that I should get up. I know it ain't healthy like you say. I probably got five kinds of diseases lined up for me if I keep it up. But it's like that game just keeps me sucked in."

“Gotta keep grinding," he said, quoting her.

“Yeah! Exactly." She took a long sip from her Coke. “You can be harder on me if you want. In fact, you definitely should. It'll keep my lazy ass off the couch and off the game."

“Well, I'm not gonna shame you or anything."

“No, I don't mean shame, I mean like…" She shrugged. “I dunno. Just yell at me, I guess."

“You want me to yell at you?"

She cringed. “I don't know. Just, next time you see me acting like a slob, say something.“

“So, all the time?"

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Next time just say something."

“I always say something. I said something today."

“Yeah well, say it louder."

He smiled and nodded. “You got it." He recalled getting caught looking at her nipples. “Sorry about looking at you and being distant. My eyes just wander sometimes."

“Ah shit. Don't worry about that. I don't care."

“I know you don't but that doesn't mean I should be looking so carelessly."

“Yeah. If I was any other girl I'd slap the shit out of you. Consider yourself lucky."

“Oh, OK," he laughed. “Thanks Mrs. 'here, look at my boobs'."

She scowled. “Hey. Mrs. Here look at my boobs was my mother. Call me Misty."

They shared a laugh and a smile. “How is your mother?" he asked.

She shrugged. “Haven't talked to her. I'm sure she's fine. How's yours?"

He had to think for a moment. When was the last time we spoke? God, I should give her and dad a call. “She's alright. I should definitely call her."

Misty sighed and looked off into the distance. “Yeah."

He expected an “I should too". When he didn't get it he asked, “Are you gonna call yours?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe. I don't know." The straw in her Coke swirled between her fingers. “If she even remembers who I am."

Timothy frowned. “I'm sure she would."

“Maybe. Maybe not. You know how many siblings I have?"

“A lot, I'm assuming."

“13. I'm the third youngest."

“Goddamn."

She nodded. “Yup. Birthdays were celebrated by the month in my household. If you had a month to yourself, you were lucky. I was November. Had to share it with two other cousins."

“Your extended family lived with you?"

“Back then, yeah, before the economy went up the ass. When it did it was like, 'OK. Now everyone scram. We can't take care of you." She sipped her Coke. “I was only seven. Dropped out of school and worked at a cell phone factory, but you knew that."

“I didn't know you dropped out of school."

“Lots of people did."

He nodded sadly. “Yeah, you're right."

Another shrug. “It doesn't matter. I'm at where I'm at. If things get better- pray to God that they do -maybe I'll move out somewhere you don't gotta worry about me."

“I don't worry about you."

She gave him a wry smile. “Knock the shit. I know how much cleaner the place would be without me."

“Well, cleaner, yeah, but it'd also be quiet. I'd rather have you than nobody."

The look on her face said she didn't believe him, but she didn't press the matter. “Yeah, thanks."

A few minutes passed before the pizza came to their table on a metal plate. The steam rising from its molten cheese triggered an involuntary whiff from them both. At once Timothy's mouth started to water. He didn't realize just how hungry he was until now. “Damn. We should come here more often," he said as he peeled a slice off and laid it on his plate.

“Geez, were you that hungry?"

“Yeah, but not just that."

“What is it?"

“I don't know, I just…" He shook his head. “I'm just glad to be out here and not in that shitty apartment. Makes it seem more real."

There was no witty remark. Her gaze dropped to the pizza in front of her, a sight she was used to seeing inside of a grease-stained box. The cheese glistened in the ceiling lights. Tendrils of steam rose from it like the flames of a candle. Yes, it was just pizza, but with Timothy there to eat it with her, it seemed to be a lot more than that. “Yeah, I guess you're right." She nabbed herself a slice and took a bite. It was hot but groaning with flavor. Her mouth melted at once. “Mmm," she groaned. “Mmm."

He laughed through a chewing mouth. “See? Better than delivery, ain't it?"

She nodded. “Mmhmm."

“Hell yeah. Maybe tomorrow night I can grab some more groceries and I can try and make one of our own, that way we don't have to pay more than we need to."

She swallowed. “Won't we have leftovers from this?"

He shook his head. “At the rate I'm gonna eat this thing, there won't be any left to take home."

“Oh yeah? Well, not if I eat more than you." Her chewing lips formed a smile.

He smiled back. “Go ahead."

* * *

Per Timothy's prediction, there was no pizza to bring back to the apartment. That didn't bother either of them too much, not when their stomachs were bloated with cheesy Italian goodness. Another trip back the next night sounded good, but like Timothy said, going there repeatedly added up over time. The two of them decided that they would have a homemade pizza night the next day. They wished each other goodnight, then went to bed.

Timothy's commute the next morning was without rain, affording him a rare view of the sunrise as he walked the sidewalks. With every crosswalk he trekked he would look down the parted row of buildings where he could see the clouds blossom into a luminescent corona of orange and red. He wondered when the last time he sat and watched the sunset. Had he even done that once in his life? His memory came up with nothing. Maybe I can tonight. He waved it off. It was homemade pizza night.

While he was pondering the sunrise, Misty was blissfully asleep on the couch. She woke up close to noon after having spent most of the previous night back on her game. Her usual routine from there was to either go back to sleep, continue laying there, or pick up the controller and turning the game on.

The memory of last night drove her to do something else. She rose from the couch and kicked her legs onto the carpet. It felt like wading through a stream of molasses. Such early morning activity was not the usual. Every part of her wanted to lay back down and go to sleep. It took some inward berating and screaming, but finally she was able to stand up. Her knees popped loudly. A great yawn split her face and furled her lips off her teeth, revealing her mousy insicors. She looked around the apartment. Trash was everywhere, sagging in the open like flesh-stripped corpses. When was the last time I tried to clean up?

Too long. With a reluctant groan she picked up the nearest trash bag. The plastic was wet around the ties. She cringed and leaned her face away from it. The carpet beneath it was sunken and stained a sickly red color. Now what do I do with it? She remembered that there was a trash chute in the hallway, but where was it exactly? Looking down she realized that she wasn't wearing any pants. Probably not a good idea walking around the halls looking like this. She set the bag down and went to put some clothes on. Who knew cleaning could be so demanding?

Both roommates performed their allotted jobs of the day while eying the clock every other moment. Timothy was extra eager to get home for pizza night while Misty was afraid that he would come home to an apartment messier than he hoped it would be. Her production could've been better given her habit of sitting down to play videogames after every individual task was done. She had spent a solid ten minutes wandering the halls looking for the trash chute. It was embarrassingly hard to find, but once she did, she promised never to lose it. A total of six bags plummeted through the chute by the time Timothy got home. It wasn't all of them, but it was a hell of a lot more than she usually did.

Timothy clocked out of work with an even bigger glee than usual. His pace to the grocery store was brisk, almost putting him into a skip. He gathered everything he needed for a pizza and hustled the rest of the way home, too excited to even notice that it wasn't raining. When he opened the door to the apartment, he noticed that the door didn't stop midway thanks to nothing being in the way. Misty was on the couch playing as usual, but everything else was… different.

There was no Cheeto bag on the carpet next to the couch. He could see portions of the walls he wasn't used to seeing thanks to the absence of a few trash bags. The place still stank and the kitchen sink was still loaded with dishes (he kind of got distracted the night before) but the place felt much less cluttered.

Misty jolted on the couch upon hearing the door open. She paused her game and shot upright. “Hey," she said.

“Hey," he said. His eyes snapped around, double-checking the place. “Did you… clean a little?"

“Yeah! Well, not everything, obviously. I didn't know where the trash chute was, so I had to go looking for that. I kinda got distracted by the game." She looked at the controller in her paws. “Well, no shit." An awkward chuckle. “I wanted to have the place clean before you got back, but I could've done more. Sorry."

“No, don't be sorry. I'm impressed."

She snickered. “Yeah, yeah, I know."

“No. I'm serious." He closed the door behind him. “Feels like an actual apartment, or at least more like one. Good job."

Her ears flicked and her tail thumped on the sofa cushion. “Thanks."

He hoisted up the new groceries. “I got the ingredients for a pizza. You ready?"

Those sparkling amber eyes of hers went round. “Yeah! Fire that shit up!"

That was the kind of enthusiasm he liked to see. “Alright!"

There were an awkward few minutes where he had to clean the dishes first in order to make room for the mess that would surely follow. Misty stood next to him, dwarfed by his larger human frame, watching how he did it and taking mental notes. While he didn't say anything, he made sure to go extra slowly and step by step so that she got the idea. She wasn't stupid or slow, but clearly nobody had ever taught her. Eventually he held up a sudsy plate. “Want to do the rest?"

That wasn't an offer she ever thought she'd take up so readily. “Sure." She went to work scrubbing the plates viciously, getting through the rest of the dish pile at an impressive clip.

“It's not a competition, goddamn," Timothy quipped.

She slowed down. “Sorry, I guess I'm making up for everything I haven't done."

He shook his head. “You're fine. I wish I could treat washing dishes the way you do."

“Oh yeah? And how's that?"

“Like my life fucking depends on it."

She scoffed. “Yeah, yeah."

Timothy didn't know that much about making pizza and neither did Misty. It was a learning experience for the both of them as they laid his phone on the table and played an instructional video. First came prepping the dough, something they took turns doing while getting their arms caked in flour.

“Watch this," Timothy boasted. “I saw this in a movie." The dough had been spread out into a flat disk. He picked it up and balanced it on his index finger like a basketball. He tried giving it a spin. The dough's rim swung a few inches, then flopped to a standstill. “Shit. Hold on."

Misty stood nearby, fighting a smile.

Timothy took two more stabs at getting the thing to spin before having to knead it some more. After putting it into a disk he placed it on his finger and tried again. There were better results this time, but no perfect twirl like he had hoped. The dough swung off of his finger more like a floppy bolo then a record. It was enough to garner a stupid grin on his face. “Eyyyy! I got it!"

Misty was giggling behind her paw. She gave him some light applause. “Bravo! Now toss it!"

He did. When it landed on his arms it slopped down to the counter like a wet blanket, creating a great outwards poof of flour that made both of them flinch. Laughter rang from them both. “Look at you! You oughtta get a job at the pizza place!" she said.

She was smiling brighter than he had seen her in a very long time. “Yeah," he said, not having registered what she said at all. His gaze fell on her and that mousy face of hers.

It faded away with his prolonged stare. “Yeah… Are you gonna put the dough back together?"

He blinked. Shit! “Oh! Yeah, yeah, sorry."

She giggled. “You're all good."

They got the dough to the consistency they needed it to be and plied it into a pizza shape. They filled it with sauce, applied a very liberal amount of shredded cheese, then covered it with a constellation of pepperoni. Timothy slid the tray it was on into the oven and set the timer for 15 minutes. He stood up and slid his mitts off. “OK! Now we just gotta wait."

“OK. What do we do until then?"

He thought for a moment. His eyes drifted out towards the couch. He pointed to it. “Why don't you show me how to play your game?"

It looked like a box of fireworks had been lit behind her eyes. “Yeah! Come on!" She spun around and practically flew her way to the couch and plopped down. She patted cushion next to her. “Have a seat!"

He had never seen her move so fast. “Heh, alright!"

The next few minutes contained an overwhelming lore dump and a tutorial Timothy could hardly make heads or tails of. He hadn't touched a video game in years. The controller felt weird in his hands. The flecks of Cheeto dust crusting the buttons and the joysticks bothered him enough to make him scratch them off. He followed along with everything Misty had to say about the game as well as he could. She rattled off names, places, and powers like someone reading an encyclopedia. He knew she was obsessed with the game but had no idea she had absorbed this much knowledge or that it went this deep. It was fun listening to her splurge like a nerd over something she was passionate about. It felt even better to finally be a part of it.

She caught herself rambling and slowed to a stop. An awkward smile rose her lips. “Sorry. Didn't mean to go crazy."

He scoffed. “Are you kidding? I'm honestly shocked you know this much."

“Yeah, well… I do sit in front of it all day."

“Well, I'm starting to not blame you." He leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees. “This is fun!"

Her worm tail squirmed behind her. “Yeah. It is."

The oven interrupted their game with a loud buzzing. Before then the kitchen had started to swell with the stomach-rumbling smell of cooked pizza. Both Timothy and Misty's mouths were starting to water, making the two of them rocket off the couch to the sound of the timer going off. Timothy clicked it silent and opened the oven door. The pizza sizzled on the rack, its crust now hardened into a golden brown with the cheese bubbling slowly. Timothy slid the mitts on and very carefully withdrew the tray from the oven. He placed it on the stove and kicked the door shut. The mitts came off and went flying across the kitchen after he threw them.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm," groaned Misty. “That looks good."

Timothy had visualized something better looking. “You think so? You're sure that's not your hunger talking?"

She scowled and hit him with her elbow. “Shut up. You did a good job. Now are we gonna eat this thing or what?"

“Oh yeah. Let's cut this sucker up." He drew a kitchen knife from a drawer and cut the pizza into quarters. They waited for it to cool down a little before each drawing a slice and taking a bite. It wasn't bad, Timothy thought. The cheese was a little bland and he probably should've bought tomato specific sauce instead of regular tomato sauce. The pepperonis didn't crisp like he hoped they would either. But hey, it wasn't bad for his first try. He could throw himself that bone at least.

Misty had none of the qualms he did. Her eyes rolled into her head as she took the first bite and moaned her satisfaction. “Mmmmmmmm, so good," she said through a full mouth.

“Oh yeah? Not bad, eh?"

“Mmf, not bad at all."

“Better than Joe's?"

She narrowed her eyes. “Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-“

He laughed. “Alright, alright. I'm just glad you like it."

The smile she made while chewing was adorable. “I do."

They finished the rest of their slices and started eying the two that remained on the tray. “You gonna eat another one or save it for later?" Timothy asked.

“I'm definitely gonna eat it now," she said, not hesitating to reach out for it.

“Wait! Hold on."

She stopped. “What?"

He walked past her to the kitchen window and looked outside. Doesn't look like it… He slid it open and leaned his head out. No rain fell on his head. Looking up he saw mostly sky with only a few clouds. The sun was still over the horizon, dousing the west in a mournful red.

Misty was confused. “What's up?"

He turned around to face her. “Want to watch the sunset?"

“You mean, like go outside and watch it?"

“Yeah. I was thinking up on the roof. It isn't raining, see?"

“Oh. Um… OK." This was a lot to handle at once. “Are we even allowed up on the roof?"

“I'm pretty sure we are. I've never seen anything saying we can't. I've seen other people hanging out up there on other buildings. We might see someone up there too."

“Oh. Is the sun going down right now?"

“It's about to. Might be awhile until the next clear night. Now's as good a time as any."

She still had to think about it. It was a simple idea as any, not something she would've thought too serious or complex. Having it dropped on her so suddenly, however, made things oddly daunting. The half of her screaming that she should go up there and continue hanging out with him was just as loud as the part urging her to stay.

It was the hopeful look on his face that helped make the decision for her. “Yeah. Sure. Let's go."

For a brief moment his face looked like a boy's. “Awesome!" He tapped the pizza tray to make sure it wasn't too hot before he picked it up. “I haven't watched the sunset in… Damn, forever I guess."

“Yeah," said Misty calmly. “Neither have I."

The two of them journeyed to the elevator with the pizza in tow. With hindsight it was probably wise to wrap it up in some foil so that it was less awkward to carry. They got a few strange looks from the neighbors who passed them by. One gentleman jokingly asked if they saved him a slice. Timothy and Misty laughed with him while praying that the elevator would hurry the hell up for them. Finally, the doors slid open. They piled inside and rode it to the very top floor where they found the entrance to the roof. Misty eyed the door and the walls closely for any sign that they might've not been allowed there.

There were none, and when Timothy twisted the door handle it came open without a hitch. He looked back at her with a giddy smile. “We're in!"

She grinned back, if uneasily. “Hooray!"

The two of them stepped out onto the roof. It was mostly covered in black gravel with a walkway winding through, likely for maintenance workers. A chain-link fence ran across the edge for their protection. The sky was mottled in a patchy assortment of flat-bottomed cumuli. The sun was only a few degrees over the canopy of buildings that lined the other side of the river. They wouldn't see it fall beneath the horizon, but they could at least see its splendor bloom across the infinite blue above, peeling away to unveil its far-off brethren.

Misty was not as struck as he was. The feeling of being exposed and out of place was strong. It wasn't cold at all, yet she drew her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill. Every empty window that surrounded them, either in the buildings adjacent or in those across the river, felt like a pair of judging eyes watching them. She scooted close to Timothy, secretly hoping that if someone caught them up there he would pin the blame on himself.

He didn't have any such concerns. His greatest worry in that moment was finding a good place to sit. Luckily the fence on the edge was on top of a raised shelf of concrete. There they could have a seat with their pizza. He gestured towards the western ledge with the pizza tray. “Over here looks nice!"

Her back went straight at the sound of his voice. “Yeah! OK."

They waltzed over to the ledge and laid the tray down on the concrete shelf. They grabbed their pizzas and sat with one haunch on the lip of the edge. There was just enough room between the edge of the shelf and the fence for them to both sit half-way and watch the sunset. The pizza was much cooler now. They took full bites, savoring each mouthful for its gooey texture and Mediterranean flavor, letting the distant city do the talking for them with the thrush of passing cars and the occasional honk.

The bottom cusp of the sun reached the top of the building on the opposite riverbank. “Here we go," Timothy said.

“We're not gonna actually see it set?"

“Not on the horizon, no, but I figure this is close enough. Don't you think?"

She saw the sun phase behind the building's edge. If she squinted hard enough it looked like the horizon. “Yeah, it is."

It was strange being able to gauge the sun's movement across the sky, no matter how slow it was. With every second came another sliver of dim orange escaping beyond the concrete border. The atmosphere shimmered in front of it like a mirage. The bottom half disappeared, leaving just the top crescent to look back at the two roommates and bid farewell. At last, it was gone, still making its way down the sky, but ending Timothy and Misty's day all the same. That left them with the radiance of the sunset reaching through the building's valleys. It too faded visibly. How much longer it would last neither of them knew. The pizza was gone. It was time to head back.

“Well, that was pretty," Timothy said. “What did you think?"

Her gaze was still locked on the west. “Yeah. It was."

“Have you ever stood out and watched the sunset before?"

She shook her head. “No. Not like this."

“Yeah, to be honest with you, I can't remember ever doing it either."

The two of them were quiet. It did not seem pertinent to leave just yet, like the setting sun still had unfinished business with them. “Hey, Tim?"

“Yeah?"

“Why'd you ask me to go to the pizza place with you yesterday?"

“Oh. Um… Well, I didn't really think about it. I just didn't want to cook."

“I know, but you could've just ordered it. You've ordered it every other time." She looked at him for the first time since the sun had set. The side of her face glowed with the waning sun. “You've never asked me to go anywhere with you before."

That gave him pause. Has she really been thinking about it that much? “Yeah… I uh…" He scratched his temple. “I just… Damn. I really don't know what to say." He recalled smoking out the window, his thoughts on himself, the city, and the many folks who lived in it. “I guess I just wanted to be with you someplace that wasn't the apartment," he said at last. “Last night I was thinking about me and this whole city, about how many shitty lives are being lived in it, about how I could make it better for myself, at least." He shook his head. “Couldn't think of a damn thing. I guess I didn't really try. Not a lot someone like me can do to make things better." He shrugged. “At least not on my own."

“So you came to me?"

“I guess you could say that. I wanted to see you someplace that wasn't the couch in front of that game, for once. You're the only person I could go to at that moment. Shit, you're the only person I could go to at all. There's not really anyone at work I have to talk to, at least not in a one-on-one kind of way."

She turned to face him fully. “Do you see me in that way?" The sincerity in her eyes was painful.

“Yeah, I think I do." I need a cigarette. He patted his jeans pocket. It was empty. Damn. “You're the only person I've really talked to in any real capacity for the last- Fuck, I don't know -year or two. Yeah, I know it's never been a lot, but at least it was something."

She nodded. “I see what you mean." Her face met the sunlight again. It was mostly gone now. The eastern sky was unveiling the first few constellations. “I was kind of afraid of talking to you. I still am. I know I'm a lazy slob. I feel it, I really do." She hugged herself and shifted uncomfortably. “It's just that I feel sometimes that there's no point in doing anything anymore."

He sighed. “I feel you there."

“Yeah, but you got a job and everything. I'm only in an apartment with you 'cause the city put me there. I'd be on the streets sucking dicks for money otherwise."

Timothy cringed, remembering how he considered lying to get her kicked out. “That doesn't mean you deserve to."

She shook her head. “I don't know. I grew up in a big household. I'm talking family size, not physical size. Lots of kids. I mean shit, we're mice. Of course there are. It's every man for himself. I don't even know if either of my parents actually named me Misty. It seems like half of everyone who lived there just got called whatever." A sigh escaped her. “I don't know. Maybe I'm being melodramatic. I just feel like whatever I do doesn't matter, and even if I try, I'll fuck something up."

Heavy silence followed. What was he supposed to say to that? Think of something, asshole. “Well, if it means anything. You did a good job today."

She looked up at him. “What do you mean?"

“I mean cleaning up and washing dishes."

She scoffed. “Come on."

“No. I'm serious." He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head. “I know this sounds weird, but seeing you do something for once, it didn't just make me happy cause the place was a little cleaner, but because you actually got up and did something. I didn't tell you to do that stuff, but you did it. You think it's stupid but it's not. Also, when we were cooking the pizza…" He had to stop for a moment. It was starting to sound stupid. “When we were cooking the pizza and we were laughing, fuck, that was the happiest I've ever seen you, I think. It was a helluva lot happier I've seen you on that game, I'll tell you that. Although I gotta admit, that game was pretty damn fun. I'm glad you showed it to me."

A smile had been growing on her face as soon as his diatribe started. By the time he was done it was at full bloom. “Yeah, that was pretty fun." Her mouse ears twitched. Her tail was swaying behind her, knocking aside some of the gravel. “You're right, I think that was the happiest I've been since I've met you." She laughed. “And it was while making some pizza." The absurdity of it would never get old. “I think it's also because it was the first real thing I've done with someone else who was having fun with me. Showing you the game was like, my first real chance to share something that I liked. I never got to do that as a kid. Now it's like the door is open. I can talk to someone for once."

It was his turn to birth a smile. The sun had ended its journey down the horizon, but its warmth in Timothy's chest was there to stay. “That… really makes me glad to hear that," he said. “I just wish I could've made you think you always had someone to listen to."

Her eyes met his fully. In the growing night sky populated by sleeping clouds and winking stars, only her irises glowed. “And you have someone who'll listen too."

His heart fluttered in his chest. Air staggered in his nostrils as his lungs struggled to complete his next breath. He wandered his eyes about her body, taking note of everything at once. His focus fell on her tail as it swept the roof beneath her. Inevitably his gaze fell on her face, noticing how petite it was.

It did not go unnoticed. “You wanna go back to the apartment now?" she asked. The intent was heavy in her tone.

He gulped. “Yeah."

“OK, then. “Let's go."

She took his hand and guided him back to the door. It was her turn to guide him. They marched down the roof access steps and into the hallways. They waited in front of the elevator doors, hand-in-paw. He never noticed how soft her paw pads were, like a velvet-coated wallet. He gave it a squeeze. She squeezed back. The doors slid open and they walked inside. They let go of each other to turn around, then immediately resumed. Misty hit the 5 button and the doors slid shut, locking them inside together.

Timothy's heart was pounding. He was not a claustrophobic person, but the elevator was downright suffocating. His throat was dry and his feet were cold. Wrenching his fist was his only source of comfort. The woman next to him, meanwhile, caused every bit of his stress. “This ride's never felt longer," he quipped, trying to break the tension.

“Shut up."

He gulped. “Sorry."

The elevator dinged on floor five and opened. Misty all but dragged him out of there the way she bolted into the hallway and led him towards their apartment. Then came the awkward moment where Timothy had to fish for the key and unlock it. He stood there fidgeting with the lock, painfully aware of the five-foot mousegirl staring him down and waiting for him to get the door open so that they could get down to business.

It fell open with a dramatic click! “There we go!" he sighed.

Misty didn't celebrate with him. She grabbed his hand again and pulled him inside. She closed the door, swung around to his frontside, and lifted on her tippy toes to kiss him. His head recoiled with the impact of her snout before falling into her for a more proper lock of the lips. His arms fell around her back. She was so small, so dainty. Her nose tickled against his as their mouths smacked one another gently. She pressed into him, squishing his growing erection into his thigh.

It was like every emotion he had pent up for the past year bled out of him and into her. His breath stuttered and his throat clogged. God, she's so soft. His fingers sank into the back of her shirt. He pressed pushed his face deeper into hers. The pressure on his penis was starting to grow.

A smug chuckle rumbled through her nose. They parted lips. “Excited, are we?"

He huffed. “Yeah. That obvious, huh?"

She reached down and squeezed his hog. “I'll say."

The blush that overtook his face was as red as the sunset they'd just witnessed. “Hahaha… Ah… Yeah. How about you?"

“Are you fucking kidding me? I'm wet as fuck down there."

“Oh shit, really?"

“Yeah, really. You mind doing something about it?"

“Yeah… I mean no. I mean-“

“God, just shut up and c'mere." She grabbed his wrist again and guided him to the sofa where the two of them sat next to each other. They resumed making out, now without the height difference. They could mesh more accurately, compose their tongues more sensually, and grind their bodies more intimately.

His hand slid up her thigh from her knee, finding the hem of her shirt. He grabbed it and pulled it up her trunk. She backed off so that he could take it the rest of the way off her. There was her bare tummy and chest. Stacked in pairs were her precious pink teats, the highest two forming a pair of ripe breasts. Her underbelly fur was a snowy white, thinner than the coarse tan that covered the rest of her body. He grabbed her sides where he could feel her ribs beneath his fingers. His thumbs fell on her breasts and pressed her nipples, perking them against his skin.

“Mmmmmmm~" Her tail flicked behind her. “Those are real sensitive, you know."

“Oh yeah?" he said airily.

“Mmhmm, especially the bottom ones. Why don't you give them a try?"

“Oh yeah. You got it." His left hand stayed on her tit while the right descended her trunk. His palm crossed the first bullet, tickling it.

She wasn't lying when she said it was sensitive. A great shudder took her. “Huhhh… Ohh~"

A boyish grin split his face as he continued fondling her bitty studs, rolling up and down each column like someone fingering a piano. He landed his index finger on one stud and drew circles around it. His thumb would press into its next-door neighbor before migrating south and giving that one some attention. Gauging his success were Misty's reactions. Sharp gasps and doleful sighs escaped her with each nudge and push. She was like putty in his hands.

“Fuck… You gotta… Huhhh…" The desperation in her voice was poignant.

He stopped. “What?"

She gulped to collect herself. “Take your clothes off."

“Y-yeah." He sat up and shrugged out of his jacket while she kicked her shoes off and peeled her pants down. A few shimmies later and the two of them were completely nude together, none of their features left to secrecy anymore. She crawled over to him and reunited their mouths. Tongues sparred and breath swapped while Timothy fell onto his back, bringing her down with her. For as long as they had lived together that couch had been hers. Lying down on it he could feel her bodily heat trapped within the upholstery. With it was the smell of flesh and sweat, the source of which was draped over him like a blanket.

He tried pulling her in closer, but she broke away and sat up. Atop his lap she looked like a giant. Her cunny burned mere inches below his manhood, close but agonizingly far. Her fingers wrapped around his penis, kindly reminding him of how soft her palms were. His foreskin peeled off his glans as she stroked him. “Are you ready?" she asked.

He had been meaning to ask her the same. “Yeah."

“Good." She elevated over his pole and promptly fell on it. Their organs collided with an audible squish. “Huhhh…" Down she came, slowly but surely, devouring his length until her ass met his pelvis. Her petite body trembled theatrically. “Huuuuhhhhhhhhhhh~"

His fingers sank into her hips. Her grip was white hot, all-encompassing. Her every twitch and quiver were like bolts of pleasure on their own, milking him for all he was worth. “Fuck. That's pretty good."

She agreed, articulating as much with a rapid bucking on his lap. Her pink hair whipped back with her head, bringing her gaped maw towards the ceiling and blessing it with her song. “Hahhhh! Huhhhhh! Yes! Mmmmmmmmmmm, fuck!"

Timothy was no less dramatic, moaning beneath her with just as much vehemence. His thighs plapped beneath her, creating a surging storm of flesh rolling down his legs and up his hairy belly. He did not forget his own duties, going back to her nipples and showing them the love they deserved. Her pitch blew through the roof, bouncing off the walls and making Timothy cringe. He wasn't about to make her stop though, not at all. It was music to his ears.

Locking her muscles was a blinding ecstasy that robbed a great deal of her physical aptitude, but through it she was able to form a few words. “HUHHHH! YES! CLOSE! CUMMING! HUHHH! HUHHH!"

Timothy did not relent his fingering. He flicked at her nipples until his digits blurred, bringing out the deepest wells of her ecstasy and blessing her with an ethereal climax. Her voice hit a wall once every muscle in her body was rocked by a series of violent spasms. Her tummy caved in on itself. The muscles in her inner thighs bulged out. Tiny girl that she was, she rocked on top of him like an athlete.

With it came the sudden tightening of her cunt, squeezing his cock and triggering his climax. He folded beneath her like a man struck by a bullet, teeth clenched, eyes scrunched. Spittle bubbled through his teeth as he let out a grunt. “Huuuuuuuhhhnnnggghhhhhhhh~!" Hot love blew out of him, painting her velvet and drilling the sweetest portions of her womb. With it she found her voice and joined his grunt with a orgasmic siren that half of the building had the pleasure of hearing.

Their pleasures faded gradually, leaving the two exhausted. Misty fell on him with her face on his collar. Sweat beaded across both of their bodies, sticking his skin to the leather upholstery. The air was rife with the smell of their sexual product, a great slag of which came gurgling from her cunt once his softening penis fell free. They could do nothing but lie there and pant for some time, too lost in a sublime stupor to do or say anything.

Timothy spoke up first. “Wow…"

Misty laughed. “Mmmm, wow is right." Her wormtail flung through the air behind her. She kissed around his collar and neck. “That was incredible."

“Yeah… Yeah… I thought so too. Whew."

She snuggled his collar and murred. “I'm guessing you don't mind sleeping on the couch with me tonight."

He shook his head. “No, I really don't."

“Mmm, good, cause now I have a reason to lay here forever."

He draped his arm over her with a chuckle. “You know what? You can go ahead and do that."

“Oh, I planned on it."

He lurched his head up and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight."

“Mmm, goodnight~"

* * *

They both woke up to the screech of Timothy's alarm in his bedroom. Misty was still on top of him, face down in a pool of hair chest. He snorted awake beneath her, confused as to where the hell he was. “Ah shit…" He looked into the pink frizz of Misty's head. She wasn't moving. “Hey…" he whispered. “You awake?"

“Mmmmm…" she groaned.

“Good. Mind moving for me."

She groaned again before sitting up, her eyes half-closed.

“Thanks. I got to go to work."

“Yeah, yeah…" She made a huge yawn and rolled off him. “Mmm, last night was fun."

“Yeah, it really was. We should do that everynight when its clear."

“Well, I was talking about the sex, but we can do that too."

“Oh," he chuckled. “Right." He wandered off into his bedroom and killed the alarm. Misty wasn't far behind, yawning again and scratching her nude butt. She was on her way to the shower but came to a stop when she heard the bathroom door close. She wasn't used to being awake this early with him. With his cum crusting up between her thighs she needed it. More than he did.

She peeled past him through the door as soon as he opened it and took a quick shower. By the time she was done she was totally alert. No way she was going back to sleep. She toweled off and entered his bedroom to find him putting his work clothes on. “Have a fun day at work," she said with a towel around her waist.

He looked back at her with an uncharacteristically bright smile while tying his tie. “Yeah! I'll try. What are you gonna do today?"

She thought for a moment. “You know what? I think I'll do some cleaning."

He gave her a proud smile. “Good to hear."

She put on some loose clothing while he threw on his rain jacket and headed out the door. “See you this evening," he said.

“Yup!" She watched him head towards the door, then come to a complete stop. “Ah shit."

Her ears drooped. “What?"

He slapped his forehead. “I left the damn pizza tray on the roof." He continued his journey to the door with a rapid pace.

“Hey! Don't worry about it. I'll get it."

He looked back at her. “You sure?"

She gave him an assuring smile. “You got it."

“Cool. Thanks, Misty."

“No problem, Tim."

[center][b]THE END[/b][/center]