Faye and Jessica’s Apartment Jessica Unwound, bare to an apartment that still felt too new and too cozy, Jessica heaved into her frustration with a blasting sigh. Her nappy, tight curls seemed all the tighter to her — everything felt like piano wire being tuned by some sick psychopath. She threw her head into her couch. “Fuck,” she swore, barely audible. When the word didn’t avail her of her angst, she repeated it louder, with enough resentment to make the walls in her living room form goosebumps. “FUCK!” “What? You’re home?” Jessica did not want any company, even if that company was one who was contractually obligated to stay with…