You know that fuzzy, warm feeling when you wake up and it's not to an alarm? Yeah. I get that every day. It's one of the perks to waking up so early. You have the time to roll over before you put your feet down on the hardwood and make the few steps to the window to take one last look at the violet sky before it turns baby blue. I never liked sunrise much. I love the night instead, with the way it hides things, velvet concealment around the barrel of a pistol.
By now the sun is up, but my curtains have the black drapes for daytime hung up, and all the faerie lights on. I'm curled up in the chair by the door, a fraying mass of navy fabric. I can hear the other occupants of the house stirring, one by one the alarms going off. I pick up a skirt and a top from the floor and change, spending a happy 15 minutes on my makeup. Happy with the result, I place my badass "I'm antisocial, don't attempt conversation" headphones and cable knit sweater on my person and scoop up the portfolio that resides in the pile of artistic mess on the desk.
I'm out the door into the glaring sunshine. The white hair and floppy fringe providing no shelter. Oh my lord of the rings, I need I get moving or I'll burn to a crisp standing here like a startled duck. I'm shading my eyes with one hand, and clinging onto my sleeve for dear life with the other. I'm not looking where I'm going, and I collide with another body in the street.
YOU ARE READING
Wishing wells and magic spells
RandomLanie is an art student at college. She's emo, so nobody is really that fond of her ... Just read the story, I suck at descriptions
