Hey all the second chapter is up, sorry it took so long. So if you like this fan,check out my other works or vote. But please comment I would really like to improve.
Ten minutes later I was fully dressed in my old, slightly frayed Madison Middle School 5K t-shirt and running shorts. My hair was tightly slicked back into a messy ponytail, my face haggard and bare. If had to go out like this at any other time, I would have a full fledged anxiety attack. But the moment, my appearance was the least of my problems; I had to get at least six miles in before I had to start getting ready for school.
As I began my frantic search for my mp3 player, the strong and familiar aroma of brewing black coffee wafted towards me. I instantly knew my dad, the earliest riser in the household, was up and about.
My dad is a stoic, silent man. Reserved, offering few words. He is the polar opposite of my mother; she can talk anyone’s ears off. Her swirling conversations seem to last eternities, while my father’s are concise, sharp and to the point. He rarely shows his emotions either. The only time I’ve seen him excited is when his favorite hockey team won Stanley Cup, he cursed out in anger only once when he singed one of his eyebrows when he attempted to make spaghetti and out of my seventeen years of existence I have yet to see him cry. To say the least, he keeps to himself. It’s not that he isn’t a good father, he is. He was the one who taught me how to ride a bike, waltzed (badly, I might add) with me at father-daughter dances and he desperately tried console me when I was crying about things I “didn’t want to talk about”. He was just there, his silence somehow comforting.
I climbed down the stairs into and then walked past the kitchen and into the living room to continue my search for my mp3. My dad was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee balanced in one hand and today’s newspaper crossword in the other. Without even looking up from his crossword he nodded his head in acknowledgement of my presence.
"Hey dad," I called out towards the kitchen "do you know where my mp3 is?”
There was a long drawn out pause.
“What’s an mp3?” My dad finally replied.
Did I forget to mention that he is inept with anything related to technology?
I sighed heavily and said, “The music player thingy I use while running.”
There was another long drawn out pause.
The super-vague description had somehow registered with him because he then said “Check underneath the couch cushions."
I was dubious at first but I walked towards the couch and removed one of the cushions and sure enough there it was. I then grabbed my mp3, stepped into my running shoes and quickly laced them tightly. I was just about to walk out the door when I heard a voice behind me.
"Do you know a twelve letter word for showy and intended to impress people" My dad asked quietly
I lingered by the frame of the door for a second longer, debating whether I should ignore him and leave or help him out. The latter won.
I racked my brain for the answer. "I think it's ostentatious" I said unsure of its accuracy.
He turned his head down and scribbled the answer onto the puzzle. He was seemingly satisfied with the reply.
I turned to leave once again and I heard a muted almost whisper-like voice say "Be careful" as I exited.
Now outside I pushed into a sprint feeling the warm pull on my quads and I smiled. Ah, running it's the familiar feeling of an old friend tightly embracing you when you reunite. The sky was still an inky navy color. The cool morning air cleared my head. As I rounded the corner of the curb, I spotted my neighbor’s beat-up Jeep in the driveway of their little white house. I passed another house, this time it was pale light blue but almost identical to the first house. Another house blurred past me again looking the same as the first two. I saw sprinklers sending arcs of water, I heard my mp3 blaring heavy rock , I felt my heart pounding in my chest and I could feel my breath my deepening.