Poisonous Veins

V: Fragile White Eggshells

•Chapter Five: Fragile White Eggshell•

        With less than three hours of sleep, I changed into my running outfit; which consists of a tank top, light gray hoodie, shorts and a pair of Nike shoes. Having my morning jog around the city helps me let out extra energy and motivates me to keep training hard.

        Giving a courteous wave to Mrs. Colas, our short French landlord whose soul is as white as her snowy hair, I went through my daily pathway. Exiting the shabby old building, the cold fall air nipped my exposed skin. My body subconsciously went down jogging route, which hasn't changed since I moved here one year ago.

        I hit the ritualistic mental checklist in my mind; 3 blackened gums on the first crosswalk sign, seventeen boulders decorated the outside of an Irish pub — 4 of which are painted with green shamrocks. The librarian, Elliot Rose, opening up the ancient library as she sips her morning coffee from the fairly new and modern cafe next door called Cafe 95 Degree, named after the temperature of their unrivaled coffee. My laundry list of specific details flashes before my eyes, reminding me to never miss anything out of the ordinary.

        Jogging through the entrance of the city's park, Greenwood Park, I passed by other morning runners too. Usually the same ones I see daily, some early birds going the opposite direction of me. I take in the usual scenery, going through my mental checklist for the recreation also. Doing this keeps my sane and helps me fit in smoothly.

        If you weren't so busy all the time, you probably would have counted all the stars in the damn sky, Zara's words repeated in my head and I couldn't shake off the sad smile on my face. I want to see her soon; her zany and idiotic humor has grown on me over the years just like my sardonic humor has grown on her.

        I missed her a ton and not only because she's the one who cooks. We have a perfect balance between each other, I love eating food and she loves making it. She usually knows what to say to me to make me feel better; she knows everything about me. I don't know if I want her home right now or never, due to the weird and horrific circumstances that I'm currently facing.

        Unlike me, she is against violence and gore. She can't even stand watching Harry Potter, there is no way she'd take the news about a mutated body lightly.

        Today was especially bleak and frigid as winter season ascended the city at a breakneck pace. The crisp air filled my lungs and escaped in a white smoke, the wind pushing it back on my perspired face. As the sweat trickled down my face, I began to head back home early as I didn't want to overexert myself. The mutated blood isn't making me physically weak but I didn't want to test out that theory just yet.

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        Instead of going straight to my piping hot coffee, I decided to get ready for work first. The cut in my cheek will only worsen if I try to drink it right away.

        Cooling my overheating body with a cold shower only relaxed me for a few minutes. I seem to be getting hot flashes, the heat prickling my tense body making everything I put on highly uncomfortable. Thankfully, yesterday was training days so all I don't have to wear the airtight workout clothes.

        Adjusting my silk blouse and dress pants, I stormed out of my apartment. I was still bothered by my body, which will soon need an Out Of Order sign hanging around its neck if it continues to act strangely. Sipping on my overly sweet coffee, I tried hard not to think about the events of yesterday and today morning but having no other distractions, it's easy for my mind to skip back to those recollections. I was worried about the rumors that would be traveling around the office when I checked in. Just like the rest of the agents in the building, I work hard on keeping a squeaky clean reputation and working hard for a promotion.