New York, the city that never sleeps. We have that in common. It's 2:34 am and I'm sat on the windowsill of my one bedroom apartment, watching the cars speed past below, leaving streaks of white and orange light behind them as they make their way to their destinations.
I light a cigarette and crack open my window. Shivering from the rush of cold night air that floods it's way into my cosy apartment as I do so. A small room, on the 13th floor of an estate building. Thin white curtains, a single bed, plants and some photos hanging above my sink. Simple but just the way I like it, like me. A simple girl, I like the sound of the rain, watching the world fall asleep and smoking fags.
After a good hour or so of watching the world I climb of my window sill, water my plants and clamber into my warm bed.
--
I'm awoken by the static of my radio that I fell asleep listening to the previous night. The sound becomes aggravating so I peel myself away from my bed to turn it off. After pouring a out bowl of cereal I open my curtains and climb onto my beloved windowsill to eat. I look at my radios clock. 9:58, I have college in three hours, which means three hours to kill on this gloomy February morning. I scoff down my Cheerios and chuck on a pair of black jeans and a white shirt, followed by my coat and black converse and brace myself for the world.
It's cold as I wait for the bus, I've decided I'm going to waste my morning away in the local coffee shop, sorting through my college photos on my laptop. I study photography, hence the photos above my sink, all of which are of the city at night, smoke and the occasional forest (from when I really venture out there). My change rattles in my bag as I jump on the bus. The same happens when I jump off.
I stroll half heartedly to the coffee shop, kicking stones as I go. The New York streets full of people rushing for work and school and god knows what else. I, on the other hand, simply walk to the coffee bar, in no rush at all.
"The usual Emily?" The waitress asks as I approach the counter.
"Yes thank you," I smile as I pay and wait patiently for my earl grey tea. They all know me in here as its my usual editing spot, if I'm not hanging out my window smoking or reading I'm here. What an interesting life I lead.
I grab my cup and wander to the booth at the back of the dimly lit shop.
"Careful! Fucking hell lass you nearly bumped into me!" Gasps a thick English accent as he dodges my hot liquid, causing it to spill over the cup onto my foot.
"I'm sorry. I, I didn't see you," I offer an apologetic smile. The man smiles back, showing off a row of crooked front teeth.
"It's alright, just watch where your going," he laughs and offers to help me, I hand him my drink not trusting this man I've never met with my camera or bag holding my laptop, purse and keys in. "I'm van, by the way"
"Emily," I awkwardly glance up, place my bag and camera down when we reach the table, grabbing my tea and sitting down, praying he wouldn't join.
"Alright lass, well I better be off. Watch where your going next time," and without another word the blue eyed boy was gone. Strange.
The rest of my day was uneventful, made my way through two hours of college and made it home by four. When arriving home I kick of my converse, strip out of my jeans and climb, no surprises, onto my window sill with a book. But I cannot seem to focus my mind, not even on a classic favourite of mine, the catcher and the rye by JD Salinger. My eyes see the words but they won't seem to go into my head and all I can think of is a pair of piercing blue eyes. That glance when our eyes met lasted but seconds, and in those seconds this boy managed to steal my attention and somehow imprint his eyes into my mind.
Sighing, I close my book, knowing I'm going to get nowhere reading instead I decide to light a fag.
I grumble around the cigarette that's placed in between my lips as I take a drag, i exhale and watch the smoke fill the air, smoking normally calms my mind but today I just can't get that one thing out of my mind. It's jammed in there and I know I will never see those eyes again. It's not even like I want to, this is why I'm so damn confused- why? Why is this bothering me? It shouldn't be.
Maybe I'm tired. And on that thought I slide down from my sill, make a simple dinner, water my plants and slip into bed by 8. Tired, I fall asleep within minutes.
YOU ARE READING
Smoke in your window // Van McCann
FanfictionEmily Bond, 19. Simple girl, Simple life, just the way she likes it. The sound of the rain, watching the world fall asleep, smoking fags and her own company. She hates the idea of relying on someone else for her happiness, that's just insane. She w...
