Packing Boxes

By Cappuccino Girl

Pairing: Josh/ Amy, but mostly just about Amy.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Still Aaron's, although I'll adopt them if anyone's offering.
Notes: In response to Jae's Defining Moments Challenge.

Amy's packing boxes. Pens. Chipped coffee mug. A holiday picture that got lost in the back of the top desk drawer. The year old packet of gum that she found next to it landed in the trash. She's packing boxes because that's what people do when they resign. She likes to stress the fact that she resigned, because it sounds so much better than 'being fired'. 'Being fired' has so many negative connotations, whereas resignation implies a willing decision to leave. Her boss forced her to resign. There was no free will.

Josh had sat on the couch in his living room in those stupid oversized pajamas while she had spoken to her boss on the phone.

"You'll have my letter first thing tomorrow morning, " she had said, twisting the brand new telephone chord around her index finger.

All her boyfriend had done was sit on the couch, didn't even put his arm around her when she had hung up the receiver. She would have wriggled away from his touch, but it would have been thoughtful of him to have tried to have hugged her.

He offered to help her pack instead.

Amy blurted 'Fuck off,' before storming out of the room. She might have accepted help with writing her letter.

She had to resign and Josh couldn't understand the concept because Leo and the President had given him a second chance when he screwed up. This is because he's a man, she had told herself. She'd love to know what second chances feel like.

At two AM when they were still both awake and she wouldn't stop fidgeting under the sheets, Josh said that the White House would hire her. She loathed being offered a job out of pity.

"No, Josh," she exclaimed, shaking her head so vehemently that the mattress shook. "I don't screw my way into a job."

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. Sometimes he feels like he can do nothing right, so he kissed her instead because she had never complained about that before.

She sits on her newly empty desk, legs swinging back and forth, admiring the view she will no longer have. A job in the First Lady's office would be perfection, she thinks. Most well paying jobs in D.C. would be tempting, assuming that they would meet all of her criteria.

Secretly, Amy has always wanted to be headhunted while being in a fantastic job, but that seems unlikely at present. Especially now that she's packing boxes. Picture of her parents and her sister at Cape Cod, circa 1981. Electric blue stress ball. Two framed photographs by some artist whose name escapes her. She needs bubble wrap.

~ the end ~


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