Summary: It only takes a slam to bring her back in focus.
Author's note: To try and inspire my muse (since it's been forever since I've written anything solo), I've started to participate in a Drabble Game. Prompt is 'million' given to me by the lovely Chirugal.
Can't do this. Can't concentrate.
How can I be expected to make any sense of...well, anything when no one was giving me time to do my job?
A million different people, pulling in a million different directions, wanting a million different answers to questions only I can figure out.
Which result, which evidence to process first? Which baby calling do I answer?
My mind is racing…not racing, screaming and tearing. I can't stop and breathe. I can't breathe. Which one do I choose?
"What do you got for me, Abbs?"
And everything slams into focus. Freight train against a wall, and I know what to do. I can breathe now.
How does he do that? How does he come in and – with a question and a smile and a Caf-Pow – gets me to focus on what's important? The chaos of my world slams into a single stream and I can concentrate. I can do this.
I smile as I turn to greet him, ignoring the smirk and knowing look in his eyes.