Author's Note: Post-ep to Hell-o, so spoilers beyond this point.
Cleaning had always been one of Emma's preferred ways of de-stressing – it was also one of the things she did most often. The difference rested with the vigor in which she ran the vacuum cleaner across the carpet, or how many times a minute the dusting cloth picked up what miniscule particles of dust remained from her last cleaning.
The radio played soft, classical music in the background as she continued to dust – the soft strains of a violin, the lack of words, combined to allow her thoughts to push to the forefront.
For her, all it would need is - she cuts that thought process off before it can fully blossom into another mental "woe is the world and men" monologue.
She thought that she could give him her heart, and with that, all of the baggage that came with loving her. It wasn't as though she was very experienced with love – after all, she was still a virgin, whether he liked it or not – and to see his reaction, it stung some part of her. It was something she had reserved for her dreams, thoughts of him, and thoughts of allowing herself to lose control like that. Like Terri.
As the song on the radio ended and shifted over to a piece she had never heard before, with cellos and she thought she could hear a harp or two, her cell phone rang and shattered the tranquility of it all.
Walking over to her phone, dusting cloth in hand, which was sitting in her purse, she saw that it was Will.
A brief flicker of a thought came to her; she was tempted, oh-so-tempted, to answer, to tell him everything she had been feeling.
Instead, she hit the button on the side of her phone that would silence the ringtone, and quickly found herself lost in her cleaning once again.
The cloth was threadbare from her vigorous scrubbing, and she knew that she'd throw it away when she was done – a threadbare cloth, after all, gathers no dust.
He didn't understand all of her, though, not the Emma that he'd be in a relationship with, anyway. Not the crazy of Terri, she'd never do that to him, but she glanced down at what she was doing – not too many people would be very understanding of this. Maybe one day she'd be the person Will wanted her to be; maybe one day she could make herself be the person he deserved to have; maybe one day they'd be perfect for each other.
Not now, though. One day.
She dropped the cloth in the trash can, and turned off the radio, the room suddenly feeling stark and empty – immaculate, to be certain.
"Silence is a wonderful thing," she mused to herself as she climbed into bed later that night, and she allowed herself to wonder for a fleeting instant what he was doing, before murmuring to herself, "he's probably alone like I am," and drifting off to a dreamless sleep.