Vice City : The Bud

Chapter 3 - Beginnings Of The Angel

Authors Note - please be kind, I'm not a professional writer I do this as a hobby - Leave a vote/comment if you enjoy as every little bit helps

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Chapter3 - Michael Standom - Beginnings Of The Angel

Thesun rises and the light it brings dwarves that of the moon and stars,and so they fade, beaten back once again. The distant sound of thingswaking can be heard. The barks of a homeless dog, the first clanksand bangs of people in the apartment building pass through the wallslike water through an already soaking sponge. A wandering fly buzzesabout the room. It's a mystery as to how it got in, butnevertheless it circulates the room annoyingly.

Pressedimpeccably into his bed is Michael Standom. His arms lay outside thesheets like some unwanted, unneeded things. The covers are tucked insuch a way that the shape of his body is clearly outlined. He'sscrawny for his height but this is deceptive as it's clear from hisarms that he's strong or at least stronger than he appears to be.In a flash his eyes are wide open, a good three minutes before hisalarm is due to go off. He glances over to the clock. He has repeatedwhat he has done everyday for years, woken just before the alarm. Thebodies natural clock is a strange thing and Michael's has been setto this time after years of working to the same schedule. He waitsfor the time to catch up to him, with every passing second growingmore and more awake in his body. Before long he's laying there,twirling his thumbs, patiently subdued by the common conception thatyou do not get up until the alarm has rung. He accepts this premisswithout regret and watches it eek past for what seems like hoursuntil finally it beeps. Without hesitation he switches it off.Jumping out of bed he heads straight for the wardrobe. Having alreadydecided what to wear he grabs all the components of his outfit aswell as a fresh, crisp, towel and heads to the bathroom next. Hebrushes his teeth with an efficiency and lack of mess which mostpeople would find difficult if not all together impossible. After ashort shower, needing only to wash not indulge in the warmth andthinkers environment it provides, he then sits at a small, one persondining table. In front of him, all neatly arranged, is a bowl ofmuesli accompanied with a spoon, a large glass of orange juice andcentred in the table is a clear blue vase with a bunch a red rosessprouting from its top. Michael reaches behind him and turns a smallknob which causes:

"Goodmorning Vice City. You're listening to Music Mash FM!"

toblast very loudly from the speakers of a radio. He turns a secondknob and the intruding noise lowers to a simple background ambience.Setting himself, he begins his breakfast and thus begins his day. Hestares blankly into the bouquet of roses just letting their beautyand serenity wash over him like the flood that cleanses themarshlands. From the corner of his ear he can hear the sound oftalking. It stops him from eating and forces him, almost against hiswill, to press himself against the wall. He closes his eyes and thesound becomes so much clearer.

"Ididn't know what you were hungry for," it says.

"Lil?" Michael pushes himself closer to the wall with not a hairbetween them.

"You'reso sweet," she replies.

"It'shard to believe that only a couple of months ago I didn't know you,"she continues.

Michaelbecomes tense. A whirl of emotions seize their opportunity tooverwhelm him.

"Iknow but sometimes you just have that connection to someone..."

Michaelpulls himself away in a state nearly describable as shock.

"Lil? Who is that with you ?"

Hetakes a moment to breath and allows the red flush to dissipate fromhis face. He returns to the divider, knocking the breakfast tablewith his leg as he does. The items upon it shake and a few drops ofmilk escape his bowl, running down its side and onto the bare wood.Michael can do nothing else but listen eagerly to his neighboursconversation with a man he can't bare the thought of her beingwith.