Tiffany stumbled going up the stairs to her apartment. She loathed wearing heels, but she’d been in them for almost four hours now, and the light outside her apartment had gone out almost two months ago. She needed to call the super about it, but she’d barely been home enough to make the phone call. Maybe it would’ve made more sense to fly, but she felt bone weary, and using her powers took effort. With the traffic around Stamford, the drive out to her sister’s place had taken almost two hours, and then she’d needed to summon the energy to look happy watching all those mindless suburban housewives fawn endlessly over Dorothea’s pregnant belly.
