An Average Day at Laminax

Chapter 3

I was awoken by what sounded like a ships foghorn while I was in a deep sleep, and I nearly fell off my bed. I composed myself and looked around my bedroom to see what was making the noise. I looked at my bedside table, where my phone was producing the incredibly loud noise, with a notification reading GET READY NOW, FLYING TO DENVER TODAY. I turned off the alarm and rubbed my eyes. I got up and slumped over to my closet, and got dressed into my best suit, which I had bought about two months ago when I went to an elegant restaurant in the city with some co-workers. The suit then hung in my closet for the next two months, gathering dust. After I had dusted it off, I went into my bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror. The blazer was dark grey, with white pinstripes visibly running down it. Near the top of the suit is where a red pocket square resided. Underneath the blazer was a purple long sleeved shirt. The tie around my neck was a brown colour, with a red and black diamond shaped pattern and right in the middle of the tie was a golden tie clip. There was a black leather belt with a golden buckle that was nearly hidden entirely by my hanging blazer, a small part visible at the front. My pants were also dark grey with white pinstripes, and covering my feet were black loafers that came free with the outfit when I bought it. 

It was a great outfit, and not a wrinkle or crease in sight, perfect for an important conference that could send my career to the top. As I took a longer look at myself, I thought to myself Should I style my hair? Or would that be too much? I subconsciously picked up a brush. I placed the brush back down and turned the tap on. I wet my hands and ran them through my hair. I then used the brush to further slick my hair back. Finally, I got some hair gel out and put some on my fingers, running it through my hair. Two skinny strands of hair fell down over my forehead, the rest of my long, slicked back hairs keeping in their place. "Alright, this looks good..." I whispered to myself. I exited the bathroom and went into the kitchen, where I opened up my pantry to find that the only options I had for breakfast was a can of Spaghetti-O's, half a packet of waffles and a box of Frosted Flakes. I pulled out the packet of waffles, put two in the toaster and waited for them to pop up. Once they did, I didn't have time to savor them. Instead, I quickly stuffed one into my mouth, then once I was finished with the first waffle, I ate the second one. 

I got up and then packed my laptop, wallet, a book to read on the plane, my phone, and my research paper into my messenger bag, placing it onto the kitchen counter. Now all I had to do was wait. Bored, I aimlessly strolled around the house, looking up and down, left, and right at my surroundings. I looked in nooks and crannies of the house, finding little inconveniences in each one, such as a crack in the glass of the houses front window, creaky floorboards in the laundry and a dead cockroach underneath the kitchen table. I walked towards the entrance of the house. To the left of me was a shelf that contained many framed photographs on top of it. They were all photos of me and my family. There was a photo of me on my first day at middle school, taken in the backyard of my childhood home, me and James standing at the Northernmost point of the Lower Peninsula area of Michigan, my mother and father on their honeymoon in Miami Beach, Florida, me and James as toddlers outside our paternal grandparents house in rural Wisconsin, and another photo of me, James and my dad all together, standing in front of a sign that said 'Welcome to Cincinnati.' Me and my brother went on trips to Cincinnati regularly, as it was only an hours drive away, and a majority of my dads extended family all lived there.

I looked at a photo of my dad and my mother. They were both in the suburbs of Minneapolis, and they were wearing heavy winter clothing as they stood in front of a grand house somewhere in the Minneapolis suburbs. They were wearing puffer jackets and smiling at the camera. My mother had a look of uncertainty upon her face, but still attempted to smile. My mind flashed back to their late night discussions about moving to Minneapolis, due to a job offer that dad had gotten from a different, larger trucking company that offered a higher salary, more benefits and more control over his work hours. He declined the offer. Two weeks after that photo in Minneapolis was taken, they divorced. After the papers were signed, my mother quit her job and immediately took a flight to Atlanta.