Chapter Text
An awfully sounding noise could be heard through a bedroom, well, rather an apartment or perhaps, the coffin-sized place you call your home. Tossing from side to side, you decide to drag your heavy body up with a long groan in hopes of trying to silence the horrid noise. Looking for the old pre-owned clock isn't the easiest task considering the depressing mess that lies in the tiny place. Feeling through the area around your mattress, you were met with something disgustingly wet. Yikes. Letting out a sigh, you wiped it on some cloth lying around, the clock still making shit water come out of your ears.
After a few seconds of unlucky searching, a car drives past your apartment, letting some light into your home for 3 seconds, thankfully making you notice a shiny red colour. Reaching out for it, you could feel the old thing vibrate annoyingly. Bringing it close to oneself, you aimlessly try to turn it off, trying to click on the correct buttons. The moment your poor ears were blessed with quietness, you threw the annoying clock across the small dark room. Well, not exactly quietness; this is a big city after all; cars, birds and conversations of passers-by could be heard quite well from the apartment.
Turning on an old floor lamp, you rub your rather tired eyes with anguish, wondering, why you even woke up in the first place. Your life isn't exactly the one many dreams of if you even can call it one. It's boring and repetitive. Of course, some people may have greater struggles, and rather have the life you have, but that can't just simply fix the idle and timid life you experience day-to-day.
Deciding to stretch your ached back for a little, you gaze at the clock, seeing absolutely nothing due to your awful eyesight. Stepping closer and picking up the thing, you notice it's 07:12; staring at it, you place it on top of the small wooden table you use for absolutely everything- eating, cooking, and so on.
Stepping right, you stretch your arm to turn on the flickering ceiling light. It's starting to give up slowly, how ironic. You push a few things resting on the ground aside with your bare foot, making your way to the kettle. Pouring some water and putting it to a boil, you open the small yellow fridge that came with the apartment in hopes of finding something nutritious. Of course, there wasn't a single five-star meal to be seen.
Gazing at the half-empty fridge, you pick up a half-eaten Caesar salad. Hearing the water finish boiling, you pour it into a coffee cup that hasn't been cleaned for a couple of days or so, stirring in some instant coffee.
Stir it into a cup of boiling water and wait for five minutes. "How surprising..." you murmured, throwing the package away into a trash can lying next to the sink.
In the four leftover minutes, you picked up some dirty clothes and throw them in a white basket, the laundry basket hopefully. Pick up some dirty dishes and place them in the slowly rusting sink. And make your bed, folding the bedsheets not so neatly. The bed seems almost too comfortable, it's almost inviting you to lie right back on, wrap yourself between the warm blankets, and close your eyes for eternity. Unfortunately, that can't happen; someone needs to pay the bills after all. Silly you!
The place is awfully quiet, isn't it? Wouldn't it be a good idea to turn on the radio? And that is exactly what you did, it played nothing but static for at least five seconds. Soon enough, it started playing on the morning radio.
"Good mornin' New Yorkers! Today is another lovely, isn't it? The weather isn't the most enjoyable today; rain is expected in the afternoon. Temperatures are from 35 to 50. The time is 07:19-"
The news lady mentioning the time made the trance of your daydreaming come to a stop. You looked at the old clock; it really was 07:19. You stepped in front of the small kitchen counter and picked up the cold salad and coffee, not even bothering with sugar or milk. You sat right back on your clothed mattress and brought the cup right in front of your nose. What a lovely smell. You let out a content sigh, finally feeling some kind of peace.
The smell of cheap Brazilian coffee filled your nostrils, you pick up your fork and start to devour the chilly salad, not finding it all that delicious. It's cold and bitter, the cut-up toast cubes wet, and the chicken cold and a mix of dryness and moisture. After some bites of green bitter leaves, you pick up your inexpensive coffee carefully. The hot coffee burning your tongue, the bitterness adding to your own bitterness towards the biased world you had the unfortunate luck to live in.
We're talking away
I don't know what I'm to say
I'll say it anyway
Today is another day to find you
Shyin' away
Oh, I'll be comin' for your love, okay!
Take on me
(Take on me)
Take me on
(Take on me)
I'll be gone
In a day or two-
To be realistic, you couldn't really decide if the radio helped to lift your mood or not. Even if it was an energetic song, there was something about the tune that absolutely annoyed you, but placing a finger on it is harder than one can think.
Soon, the cheap and bitter coffee was drunk, and the salad was eaten. You couldn't help but feel some kind of anxiety in yourself; breakfast was eaten, and now the only thing left to do was to dress up and head to work. Sounds simple, right? Absolutely not. As any normal person would, you despised your work. Especially one that deals with people; kind, loud, bratty, understanding, and so on.
You sighed and got up, placed the dirty dishes in the sink and made your way to your closet. Thinking of what to put on, your eyes stop on a plain sweater. Okay, we have the top. You picked it from the hanger and held it against yourself, looking for a pair of pants. Soon enough, you notice basic brown sailor-cut trousers; they are quite comfortable and clean too, so you pick them up, heading towards your bed. You take off your pyjamas; an old T-shirt you got from your brother, a pair of striped shorts and unmatching socks.
The feeling of freshly washed clothes is just amazing, the smell of laundry detergent blessing your nostrils with a slight cherry blossom. You put on some socks and stepped in front of the old mirror that's poorly screwed on the front door from the last owner. Ah, messy hair. To be honest, it doesn't seem all that bad, just a few brushes and it'll look great! And you picked up your comb and brushed your hair quickly, leaving it less wild. You pick up some purple bobby pins to tame your hair with, creating a professional yet a cute look.
Then you gazed at the place, looking for your deodorant and body spray. Once again, the mess made the job harder. You foraged for them everywhere, but unluckily, they weren't where you left them.
You looked for them for 3 more minutes, without finding them. That made you irritated, agh! For no reason at all, tears welled up in your eyes and you sat down on your bed, crocodile tears just coming down your cheeks. You took some hair in between your fingers and pulled them out. The sudden infliction of pain made you snap out of the meltdown, you opened your eyes and wiped your tears. As soon as your eyesight wasn't blurry, you noticed something on the dirty ground, and of course, it was your dear deodorant and body spray.
The few hair strands fell to the ground as you picked up the items you were searching for so desperately. You stand up and roll the men's deodorant on, cheap yet works well. And pump that almost-empty vanilla body spray on yourself, hoping to smell decently nice.
Was it really worth crying over? Ehhh. At least you found them!
Standing up, you look over the room for your bag. Thankfully, it was hanging on the bathroom doorknob. You reach for the bag, which has seen greater days yet works functionally amazing. You pick up some essentials such as your keys, wallet, lip balm, medicine, said body spray, a lighter and, of course, your dearest, the cassette player.
Since it is rather chilly on this dreadful day, you gaze at the two coats hanging from the rack that resides next to your front door. A basic leather jacket and a knee-length wool coat. You pick up your bag, the clutter inside it making noise with the movement. You place the bag right on the wooden rack and pick up the worn-out leather jacket, wrapping it around yourself. You take one last look at yourself with that mirror. You slip on your combat boots, that have helped you through tougher times.
You pick up the bag from the rack, turn off the lights and take one last look at the cursed clock; 07:37. And you step out of the desolate place and close the door, feeling relief that you got out on time.