"Are you all right?"
Donna jerked her head up, feeling as if she had just been yanked out of a dream. She had zoned out again. She let her mouth twist ruefully in an apologetic smile to the till attendant who was still holding her hand out, palm-up, for her money, looking unimpressed. Donna dropped the change into her hand and grabbed the single bag before scooting out of the door of the corner shop.
She let herself into the house and walked to the kitchen, dumping the bag of random items onto the counter. Sylvia looked up from the eggs she was frying and clicked her tongue, a sound that instantly got Donna's back up. Her shoulders tensed as she waited for a rebuke for something, though she didn't know what she had done to set her mother off - wasn't that always the case? - but she just turned back to the stove. Donna guessed she didn't have time for moaning about Donna anymore.
Without a task to occupy her hands, if not her mind, she found herself drifting into the living room where her grandad was sat in the armchair reading the paper.
"Anything interesting?" she asked lightly, perching on the arm. Wilf gave her a look over his glasses which was almost like pity before returning his gaze to the newspaper.
"A bank robbery in Southampton. An employee fainted and said it was a - " he squinted and quoted, "''large green creature that stepped out of Mrs Harlow (bank manager)'s skin and proceeded to hold up the bank and get away with around £6000 in cash''.''
He looked over at Donna, as if wondering if he should continue, and then said, "She also gave a description of an odd person at the scene who followed the creature. The police are looking for a tall skinny man in a brown suit.''
He peered at her oddly, and suddenly Donna couldn't stand it anymore. He was always looking at her weirdly, sympathy or anxiety or even guilty, being careful about what he said. Sylvia didn't even bother to talk to her these days.
Was it really her fault that she had suddenyl become so distant? Her friends had given up trying to call her when their usually bubbly pal had stopped returning their calls and turned cold and empty. She couldn't seem to get herself back.
Deep down, she thought she knew the reason for her melancholy. She left her grandad and went to her bedroom, where she pulled out a wooden box from under the bed. Inside it there were only two small items of no consequence to anybody else. A key, and a ring. She didn't know who they were from, but she knew that whoever had given them to her had been very special and important. It made her heart ache thinking about who it could have been and why she couldn't remember.