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It's been months now since Dove's left the house. UBI and savings have sustained her, but since she lost her job six months ago she's frankly been in somewhat of a downwards spiral. Most days she stays curled up in bed, texting, and today is no exception.
But the demands of her body call, and so around noon she slips out of bed, wearing nothing but a blanket, and pads over to her little kitchenette to pour herself some cereal.
It's only after she gets up and has her cereal that she realizes what day it is. Today is Ashday. Hearthtide was yesterday. And she didn't go out or do anything for it, not really. Not so much as a chocolate bar.
She could easily afford to have a little celebration of some kind, she just... kind of forgot. Things have been harder lately. Her world's been narrowing, concentric circles of activities closing off to her. She barely even video games anymore.
She really has to do something about this, doesn't she? Or she'll turn into one of those pasty-skinned ghosts who nobody sees in a decade until they turn up expired in their apartment, the only sign of their passing the concern of their internet friends. Cocooning is never good.
So, hesitantly and stiffly, she stretches, slips on her long fuzzy leggings and a skirt, throws on a shirt, a sign bracelet set to cyan, and her heavy parka overtop, and pushes determinedly out the door of her apartment, shoes clumphing in the hallway.
She doesn't really know where she's going, but she's got her purse and her phone and there's a train station just ten minutes away, so. She'll just walk down there. And figure out where to go from there on the platform. If she doesn't want to go anywhere she'll at least get a nice walk in.
