To Perceive an Image

Thirty-Seven: Images of Parental Ignorance

Maryanland, September 25, 2040, 7:57 AM

Overshare. Overthink. Overdo.

My motto, although not a healthy one, but one that works. I repeat the motto like a mantra as I get closer to work. After the whole outburst I had with Anna's crony, going to work feels a lot easier, more breathable even. My parents have influenced me to grow a sense of hostility towards anger, and even more towards using it to any degree.

But the words I spewed the other day sure helped present Azail feel at ease. I've never felt this relaxed thinking about work ever.

However, there's an uncertain feeling that is making my gut heavy. One thing I've learned is to trust my gut, no matter how absurd the setting may be. Although not a painful sensation, my hand still raises to run at my abdomen to ease it in spirit.

Deep breaths, Azail.

If it's nothing, we're good. If it is something, then you will get through it. Enjoy this sunny fall day.

I will.

Multiple deep breaths later, I see the clinic I work at coming into view.

The closer I get, the more defined the silhouette I noticed standing by the door gets. Anna, who would've fucking thought? She stands next to a group of people, wearing her usual black trench coat and fake smile. Whatever, ignoring her like I always do. With the most relaxed expression ever seen by mankind, I make hurried moves to sidestep her without getting noticed. As much as I hate to admit it, seeing her makes me nervous. Years of snarky comments and more than uncomfortable advances don't leave one's head like that. Although I know it is not fear, it is something resembling it.

I should have noticed the catch in how she smirked when she saw me sneaking a glance at her. I didn't think of it much, since she always does that. Part of me feels downright defeated for still seeing her have her usual demeanor, even after what I said. Whatever, I did what I could, and I'll do more if need be. At least she isn't talking to me, and that's a miracle I will appreciate with open arms.

Once I enter the building and get a few steps in, a familiar venomous voice speaks words I wish they didn't.

"Good morning, Azail, have a nice day."

Anna, a-fucking-gain.

Ignore it, think of Flynn and how he said it with his heart. Flynn, Flynn, Flynn.

An involuntary smile raises the corners of my mouth when I remember him and his details. If someone told me I would ever be in a scene where I would ignore Anna's words and walk away as I think about a potential lover, I would have cackled.

Yet here I am, doing just that. Wow, I'm loving this Azail, she's fun.

Pfft, please. I'm your mind, and it's quite dark in here. I don't know where you got the fun from, but keep dreaming big.

Bye.

Dare I say that might have been the shortest encounter I've ever had with Anna? Maybe today is a good day because I'm loving how it is going so far.

12:17 AM is what the clock read as I make my way home.

I don't know why I always stay to help the interns, but I do it out of kindness. And because I want to set a good example of what most people at the clinic are like. Wouldn't want to traumatize an intern a day into the job. Even though I'm an intern myself, longevity goes a long way in the workplace. Even if it isn't ideal in most cases, it is for mine.

My phone rings as I turn to enter my street. Pulling my phone out of my slacks, I damn near drop it when I see my dad's name flashing through the screen.