Steven Grant's life is anything but extraordinary. He wakes up in his flat, feeds his fish, and then heads to work at a museum gift shop. He leaves his mum voicemails everyday, but doesn't seem to ever hear back, aside from postcards. His sleeping h...
Another alarm goes off, the ringing managing to knock Cleo out of it. She opens her eyes and shakes off the feeling as she turns off the water.
She dries herself and opens the bathroom door to allow at least some of the steam to escape. She looks in the mirror as she sucks in her lips and sighs. She gently combs through her bangs as she uses a towel to dry her thick, black hair. She uses the tools in front of her to fill in her brows, add a little brown shadow to her crease followed by black mascara. She adds a little bit of blush to her cheeks, and pops it off with chap stick followed by a light pink tint.
Cleo goes into her bedroom and opens her closet to pick out her outfit for the day. She slips on her boots and her jacket, along with her thin glasses.
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She grabs her bag from a chair, gives Ana one last pet, and then heads out the door. She locks her flat, then descends the stairs to the level bellow, for the elevator does not go to her floor. She presses the button and patiently waits, until she hears the bell ding. She enters the elevator filled with cracks and graffiti and then presses the button for the bottom floor. While some may look down on buildings like this, she finds it charming. The bell dings once more, and the doors open. She steps out of the building and into the street. She passes the man selling rakes and brooms, then turns the corner to hail a cab.
It takes her all the way to the museum, where she pays the fare and then steps out of the cab. She walks along the marbled floor and up the smooth steps and enters the beautiful museum wing. She walks past countless artifacts, most that wouldn't be there if it wasn't for her. She enters one of the back rooms that are off limits to guests by swiping her key card. She walks into the small office with her name plaqued on the door and sets down her purse and coat. She grabs the stack of files on her desk and takes them with her to another area of the museum, one she could spend hours in.
She uses the files to tell her which boxes to pull from her inventory. She pulls out a box of dirty artifacts that she has the pleasure of cleaning. She puts on her gloves and lays out her tools and turns on the lamp on the table. She liberally applies a cleaning solution to the artifacts and begins to wash away their impurities, something she would rather not do. She thinks that artifacts are perfect exactly how they are found, and that cleaning them is silly. However, it's all a part of the job.
She doesn't mind this part of the job. She doesn't mind the quiet. She doesn't mind the tedious work, but it's not her favorite.
Why be stuck in the museum when you can be out in the work excavating for yourself?
Cleo finds herself getting lost in her work, so much so that the only thing that breaks her concentration is the pr-set alarm on her phone. She's quick to turn it off, and once the silence comes back, she looks back at the table in front of her and realizes she's easily blown through 3 days of work. She lets out a sigh, but begins to cleaning up, for overtime is not something she would like. She neatly packs everything up and prepares the artifacts she cleaned to be displayed in the museum. She walks back to her office to grab her thing, and then begins to walk out of the museum. She walks through the large, dimly lit room until she reaches the exit.
Cleo hails a cab, gets inside, and makes her way back to the flat. She pays the fare and walks into the building. She takes the elevator to the 5th floor, and then walks up the flight of stairs to get back to her room. She unlocks the door and is greeted by Ana. Cleo sets down her things and walks into the kitchen. She sets down some tuna for the cat, and for herself she grabs some leftover pasta salad, accompanied by a glass of sparkling water. She eats her food and drinks her drink while standing in the kitchen, and once finished she washes up the dishes from just now and this morning.
She was going to go straight to bed, but something draws her to the piano, this time not her furry companion. She sits down at the cool, leather bench and sets her fingers on the keys.
And once more, her neighbor beneath her listens intently. Steven hasn't had the best day of work, and yet this music puts him at ease. A man riddled with anxiety, soothed by the gentle tapping of piano keys. He feels tempted to sleep without all of his precautions, but his worry gets the best of him. He places the tap along the door, fills the sand surrounding his bed, and straps on the ankle restraint. He lays his head on the pillow, hands folded over his stomach, his brain waves slowly as the beautiful composition continues. He fights it for a while, but the alluring embrace of sleep takes over his mind, but not his body.
Marc soon regains control, and he too fights it. He fights the voice in his head telling him to get up, for he wants to listen to the music. Very few things bring him joy nowadays... but maybe just this one little thing. This one little moment of peace as the music from above cascades down into his flat as if it comes straight from heaven.
But he knows he'll never end up there. He knows that this feeling is just temporary.
" *sigh* Must we really go through this again, Marc? Get up."
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