She has things she needs to do.  She also has things she wants to do.  She's a combat esper and she hasn't taken much of a vacation in two years.  Financially, she'll be fine.  Better than Tim, since he's paying her the at-fault unexpected partnerships dissolution fee.

she hopes he's not going to lose the theater, he loves it so much

She hasn't, traditionally, been much of a notetaker.  But for reasons she's deliberately not examining or thinking right now, she's picked up the habit in the last few months.

New partner(top priority, medium urgent)

Cancel all dungeons for a week, minimum.  (medium priority, ASAP urgent)

Mental health day(second-highest priority and urgency)

She stares at her list.  She - surely has other things she needs to do?  Right?  Has her entire life been dungeons?  When was the last time she did something fun?  Other than.  Well.

Yeah.  She's got a list of tasks.  She can execute.

She calls up her agent.  She's not running any dungeons for a week.  At least.  Maybe two.  She's also in the market for a new partner.  Oh, you have a list?  Real funny how that works out.  Y-you've been compiling it for the last month?

She thinks about an old-timey TV scene, where they could slam the telephone back on the receiver.  Apparently everyfuckingbody and their dog knew that her partnership was collapsing.

If she thought about it, it wasn't - completely unexpected.  She and Tim had been on shaky terms since his backlash collapse, but - well.  Maybe it was just a matter of time.

For better or worse, Carol self-identifies as a combat esper.  She's got a mission to run and if her hands are shaky and her vision a little blurry, it's not the first time she's run a mission with shaking hands or blurred vision.

What was the last thing she did for her mental health, on her own, without anybody around?

You know what, it's time for rock climbing.  Not coincidentally, she's only a mile or two away, and it's pretty nice out.  She packs her backpack - chalk, change of clothes, some good boots, a yellow Esperade.  She looks at the esperade, and then deliberately sets it back in the fridge.  She retrieves a red one instead.

One light jog later, she's there.  She stashes her kit, changes to her climbing boots, and wipes the sweat off her hands.  She walks up to her favorite wall, planning out a route.  She puts her hands on the wall, and.  Stops.

See, she has an arrangement.  Her power isn't quite like that of Ti-her partner's.  Her FORMER partner's.  He can be as tough as he wants to be.  She's got a little bit of toughness.  She can handle falls at terminal velocity just fine, though, at whatever angle she lands on.

But.  She doesn't have a partner anymore.

She gets off the wall.  She runs through a quick breathing exercise.  Normally, it's for calming her nerves pre-dungeon.  Now, it's used to resist the urge to turn on her power just long enough to turn all of her emotions into rage.  Then she finds and smiles at one of the employees.  "Excuse me, do you think you could show me how to use the belaying machine?"  Her eyes aren't shiny, that's just a trick of the light.

It's not what she wants.  She wants to feel free.  She wants to ascend or fall based on her skill.  She's so constrained by this stupid harness, it's chafing her left thigh somehow but it's not worth adjusting because it's so pointless.  She wants to have the world narrow down to the route she planned and her body's ability to execute on the plan.

Instead, she's resting.  She'd slipped and instead of falling, the harness caught her.  So she's lying back, staring at the ceiling of the gym.  Her feet are kicking against the climbing wall, keeping her shifting back and forth in the air.

"Are you okay up there, miss?"

"Uh, miss?  Are you okay?  Do you need to be let down?"

"I'm FINE!"  Christ on the cross, I was zoned out.  "Sorry, sorry - I was just, uh.  Planning my route.  I'll be back at it in a minute!"

"Okay!  I'll be here if you need anything!"  Must've froze.  Happens to everyone, sooner or later.

She recovers.  She makes a climbing plan.  She executes it.  It's not much longer before she's at the top.

She used to leap from the top, sometimes.  Her agent hated it, but what's the point of being able to jump a hundred feet onto a foam surface and laugh it off if you never actually do it?  Now, staring down?  It's just another reminder that she can't do anything anymore.

She takes a few minutes at the top to get her shit together.  It's a little rude to hog a wall like she is, but Carol McCleery doesn't give a shit about anything today, least of all being slightly rude.  She makes her way down the responsible way.

She does a free-climb, but that's not really even that high or hard.  It's not engaging.

Carol McCleery is officially getting a failing grade in Mental Health Day.

Still, she smiles at the employees on the way out!  Just because she's miserable doesn't mean anyone else has to see it and be in a bad mood because of her.

She leaves, and the smile vanishes.  What else do I enjoy doing, aside from guiding, that I can do alone?  She meanders home - freeclimbing is fun, jogging is fun.  Jogging after free-climbing is pure masochism, and she's not built for that.

She unlocks the door, closes it.  Locks it behind her.  Have I eaten yet today?  I don't think so?  She putters together a quick meal - frozen waffles in the air fryer.  Blueberries dropped on top.  Confectioner's sugar sprinkled over it.  Two fried eggs on the side.  It's a good meal.

She doesn't, actually, enjoy it.

Well.  She doesn't have to be sad.  If she just took a second to use her power, it really wouldn't take much at all.  She knows how to steer, with anger.

She doesn't, though.  She remembers Hell Week.  It's a little like the story her Great-Uncle Sam told her about sneaking a smoke and being forced to smoke an entire pack in one sitting.  She's tempted, but she doesn't want to go to jail again.

Instead, she cuddles up with her favorite blanket on her favorite couch in her solarium.  Even with everything else going on, her solarium is nice.  She's just going to not think about the time she NOT THINKING about that, Carol.

God damn it.  I'm going to be reminded of him every fucking time, aren't I.  And since he - really, really doesn't want to see me.

She composes a text to her agent.  She's selling the house.  She wants to rent a house with these specs.  It needs to be away from New England.  It needs to be in an area with extremely available teleportation infrastructure.  She'll want to be moved in within a week.  She'll mark the furniture she wants to keep.  Everything else can stay with the house.

And just like that!  She has a mission, which is better than a Mental Health Day.  She uses some pink yarn she'd accumulated from...somewhere...to mark the furniture she wants to keep.  Couch, yes.  Bed, no.  Small dining room table and chairs, yes.  Office, no.  Her console and laptop get packed up, along with her projector.

In the end, it only takes a day to mark the things she wants to keep!

Nighttime isn't as easy.  She'd gotten used to sleeping next to someone.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, but she sleeps like the dead when she finally drifts off.

When she wakes up, she rolls over and looks at her phone.  11:23.

”SHIT IN MY FUCKING BEARD!” It’s so late, I forgot my dunge-

oh

She takes a shower.  It takes a long time to run this particular tank out of hot water, but she manages it.  She dries off enough to put on some loose athletic shorts and a T-shirt, then heads down to her the solarium.  She flops across her couch.  That, at least, she's keeping.  It was her first big purchase after becoming an esper, and she'll be damned if she gets rid of it over a boy.

She can always make new memories.