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Phoebe Moore wants to breath. Her hands stuffed in her pocket she's walking down the street, huffing and puffing just to see the faint smoke fall out like a child. But she isn't really breathing, she hasn't breathed in a while.
She looks weird, her nose red, Phoebe looks around anxiously, but she's at peace, not really at peace. The red and orange leaves blowing easily, but it's dark. She see's that same lamp post at the end of the street.
It's very early, where she is expected to open the store again, and again, and again. So nobody is really outside at the moment, except that lady who walks her dog in clothing that make's Phoebe wonder if she shares the same weather with her.
She digs into her pockets, rummaging for her keys. Her cold fingers pull out the set of things, a little dog keychain attached that barks when you squeeze it. Phoebe sticks the key into the keyhole, it's a glass door, the name "Carrera's" smeared across.
She smiles a bit.
Pushing the door open following after it, Phoebe takes off her short brown jacket. She walks into the back, flipping on each light switch one by one, then turning on her personal fairy lights she had to beg her to let her up put up. Her Doc Martin's clack as she walks over to turn the sign from closed, to open.
Phoebe moves her long sleeve up, pushing her unmatched bracelets out of the way, she looks at her watch, which reads five am. She pushes her sleeve back down dropping her arms to her side, her coworker who is expected to be there at five- thirty but always comes late with some bum excuse. Phoebe who sometime's notices her coming in the same clothes from yesterday.
She doesn't say anything though.
Her feet kicked up on a table as she reads, or tries. She can only think about her, considering she is the only interesting thing in her mopey life. So when she thinks like that, she reminds herself that she would never want somebody who wasn't interesting, or wasn't a boy.
Phoebe Moore does not fit any of those things.
She bites her tongue, her teeth hitting a day old coffee burn, her torn up hands running through her hair, seems like she's waiting for her to walk through that door any minute now, but this isn't new for her. Nothing is new. Everyday is the same, but maybe if she smile's at her it helps, even if it's for a moment.
She taps her boots on and off the ground, a minute passes, another one. Her heart embarrassingly skips a beat when the curly hair walks by, a scarf wrapped around her neck in a leather jacket.
Phoebe feels frozen into her seat, her feet lingering into the ground, this isn't new.
She steps into the shop, green converse wet, Phoebe had not noticed it started raining. She exhales, Phoebe notices the brunette can breath, and she likes that. Their eyes meet, interlocking, but she can't stare for too long, she looks away. "Good morning Kiara. ."
