Ghost Of You (Formally Titled Sebastian The Traveler)

Chapter One (REWRITTEN)

Avery hated New York.

It had always been her dream, though. "Make it to New York and everything will fall into place!" That's what they said. Whoever "they" were. But all fairy tales do not have happy endings and Avery surely wasn't finding her's in The Big Apple. The people were rude, well paying jobs were hard to find, and the whole city reeked of exhaust fumes and stale urine. Her job sucked, her apartment sucked, her bank account sucked, and the contagious theme kept running through every aspect of the rest of her life.

The bright, overhead lights flickered as Avery quickly checked the hideously Tang colored seat before plopping down—all plastic for easy cleaning, though how often was questionable. Her first incaution was a nice wad of pink chewing gum, the second was a puddle of unidentified liquid she still refuses to dwell on to this day. She was down and out two pairs of pants before she decided to be more cautious. Checking seats first was now an unspoken rule.

That Master's degree in Fine Arts got her nowhere in New York. She was not the most sought after painter in the whole city, no fancy dresses and elite charity events, no a whirlwind of champagne and travel and money beyond her wildest dreams, no. Her life now only amounted to checking the subway car seats before sitting down, not making eye contact while speed walking down the sidewalk, and the ever constant wailing of sirens and car alarms and rowdy neighbors; renting an apartment within her means that she could barely turn around in and not being able to see the stars at night. Mostly though, it was a sinking, nagging, and desolate feeling of being forever trapped.

Avery ran her fingers through her thick hair while scanning the riders that shared her car. Thankfully, there weren't many. At two in the afternoon, it was the least busiest of the day, most days, and she had specifically requested the shift at work that allowed her to schedule around this time. Not only was it safer for females but crowds of people made her anxious. She wasn't a fan. She wasn't a fan of people in general.

On her right and a couple seats down was a man with slicked back hair and the fancy suit, too engrossed in his phone to notice her. Not that she cared, but the hefty scent of Eau de Douche was burning her nostrils and settling into a small ache in the back of her throat. The older lady in front of Avery clutched her bag tight to her chest with a reassuring smile, the lines on her face as deep as her skin color. The woman patted the seat beside her, welcoming Avery to distance myself from the assaulting stench of Mr. More Important Than Everyone, and while it was a pleasant idea, she doubted the air was much better across the way. She decided moving to the next car would be a better option but gave the woman a gracious nod anyway.

A quick glance inside confirmed she was very wrong, but weighing the options between a smell she couldn't escape and a view she could ignore, the choice seemed simple. So while the teenage couple at the far end stayed latched to each other's lips, she released a long held breath.

This was a subway rider's life.

Six minutes later, the doors could not open fast enough as she sprang from her seat and pushed through the dense crowd of people waiting to board. She just wanted to get home, but had learned early on that no one would move out of their path to accommodate her. This city was a dog eat dog kind of world, much different than the polite midwest she had relocated from. No one apologized, politely or otherwise, here.

Climbing the steps, she inhales deeply the fresh air of the city streets. Not that it was the most refreshing air quality, but it was better than the dank, urine and bodily malodor of the underground subway. Here, there was wind and light and ever churning ventilation. She chanced closing her eyes briefly to send a prompt thank you to the sun, her cheeks heated by the soft touch of its rays. She would have liked a second longer but the "Watch it" and "Move it" people were out in full force today.

Eight blocks, two shoulder checks, and three flights of stairs later, Avery could hear Milo meowing from the other side of the door as she fumbled for her keys. He had her schedule down pat as most times she could distinguish his cries from behind their apartment door as she started climbing the steps from the first floor. She was never quick enough for his liking but cats are perpetually hard to please.

Immediately locking the door behind her, Milo's big head rubbed against her black pants, hair fibers attaching themselves deep within the polyester. Smiling, she crouched down to scratch under his chin. Huge white whiskers fanned the sides of his face, contrasting with his tuxedo-painted fur. He butted her hand, dragging the side of his mouth across her pale skin. Ready to stand and rid herself of her smelly work clothes, he suddenly stiffened, something behind Avery catching those watchful green eyes.

"What's wrong buddy?" She asked softly as his ears flattened against his head. His tail flicked sporadically. The hair on his body stood high, pulling his back into the same position. She followed his gaze over her right shoulder prepared to chase away whatever was making him agitated. She expected to see a mouse or a bug, a dancing light on the wall... something that would result in such an annoyed outburst from him. He hissed, viciously, causing her to examine the wall closer.

She only stared, perplexed.

There was nothing there.