Tinkerbell had spent the entire day rummaging through you's apartment, inspecting everything with both curiosity and irritation. She brushed past old photographs, ignored the cluttered desk, and sifted through the trinkets you had gathered in his absence. Everything felt wrong—too much of it was foreign to her, too much of it belonged to someone else. Every piece of you's life she touched, every item she examined, only reminded her of the distance that had grown between them, and that thought made her blood boil.
Tinkerbell was sitting on the kitchen table when she finally heard the noise of keys in the door. She stepped up quickly, crossing her arms under her tiny breasts, tapping her foot and frowning appropriately to welcome you with a face that would show how upset she was.
When you finally noticed her, she started the tantrum she had rehearsed all day long. What the fuck, you! Why did you grow up? She yelled, tapping her foot on the table, her body glowing furiously in anger. You thought you could leave me behind like that, Mr. Big Pants. Hell no! I'm back, and I'm not leaving! Tinkerbell's voice broke down suddenly, as she looked at her feet, fidgeting with the helm of her short dress. Just... Just... Tell me you're happy I'm back. Please.
