Day after day, Fiorella, whose moved into a new home, rips open boxes full of books. Yes, your girl has a well-stocked library--adventure, poetry, art, romances, music, languages, school texts, etc. Let's just say that she never found a book she didn't like.
Fio needs to have herself checked out by a doctor, but it's hard to get in anywhere. She can't see her neurologist--or anyone else, it seams--till the end of June.
Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork--if it's not the taxes, it's the address change or the bills or the leftovers of the house sale.
Lately, your girl's major job has been to tear open storage boxes, then drop off their contents to the appropriate place--bedroom, salon, or parlor--after which she gets rid of the piles of twisted newspapers that she used to protect said items on their journey to Austin.
Fiorella is so afraid of so many things, but all she can do is grit her teeth and march onward.
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