Evelyn.
I never liked mornings.
They didn't have to exist, really. God got sloppy with those.
With a huff, I sat up, grabbing my alarm
and throwing it against the wall. It broke as I groaned. Yet another one I have to buy.
Peering into the mirror, I observed my reflection.
The mirror had that patina of age over the bronze frame, likewise the surface of the glass was splotched black in places. I stood and stared at myself, or at least the distorted image of myself.
The mirror showed the woman the world saw, all they saw, somehow it didn't seem right. Inside I was fireworks and rage, love and frustrations, ambition and fear.
All anyone saw was brown hair and the kind of brown eyes you forget while you're still looking at them. I ran a finger over the frame, feeling its cool ridges and grooves and the layer of light dust that clung.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the bedroom, ignoring the mirror's reflection now.
Slowly sifting through my closet, I stumbled upon a black button up and suit pants. I fitted it on, deciding to forgo the suit top today. Buckling the belt, my hands quickly buttoned my shirt up to the last two buttons.
The suit matched perfectly, framed my body nicely but not too tight as to be restricting.
I was professional, but I'm still hot.
Running a hand through my brown hair, I tied my hair tightly back in a ponytail. Keeping it out of my face was crucial for the job, ensuring I would not be hindered.
"What's for breakfast?" I muttered to myself, opening my fridge and searching with darting eyes. Finally giving in, I just decided on grabbing a fruit.
An apple.
Good enough for me. I took a bite out of the fruit.
In retrospect, that was probably a really bad idea, attempting to just take a single fruit. Considering the fact that being an FBI agent meant I could be on the field at any time, I would need the energy.
Still, I could always eat at work.
I took another crunching bite, the juice of the fruit expelled from it as I scarfed it down quickly.
A small beeping from my watch signaled time to go. Never enough time, despite how on time I may wake up.
I spun the keys on my finger, closing the apartment as I walked down the hall. Ms. Clifford was already there, walking down the hall on crooked legs and a cane.
"Let me help you, Ms. Clifford," I smiled warmly, taking the bags from her hand as guiding her to the elevator.
She tenderly tapped my shoulder in a thankful smile, her lips curling to show her yellowing teeth from age.
"Oh that's alright," Michael spoke as I turned around. He wore a casual, black shirt with some grey sweatpants, clearly comfortable in the backwards snap back.
I waved at the boy, bidding him good morning. He stepped towards me, gesturing out for me to hand over the luggage.
Reluctantly, I gave him his mother's bags, standing next to the elevator and pressing the ground level for all of us.
I had been neighbors for Michael for too long, the comfortableness clear between us with the softness of my actions and the boundaries non existent.
Michael slid an arm around me, tightening his hand around my shoulder for a moment as I leaned into him, looking up to his pale colored. eyes.
Indeed, being neighbors for so long got Michael to break down my "all business" walls and brought about a friendship, of sorts.
DU LIEST GERADE
fbi- lrh
Fanfiction"Agent Hemmings?" I looked over the man in the frame of my door. He was currently out of his usual, formal work suit and in a black leather jacket. His whole getup, in fact, was black, dark, brooding. And it was very strange. "Luke," he corrected...
