Flower

Chapter 1

Ava hated mornings. No, not just hated them. Detested them.

She hated to sound like a typical teenager (I hate mornings...I hate life...all that jazz) but whenever she woke up her stomach plummeted. Plummeted so fast that she looked down slightly to make sure that it hadn't ended up on the floor. No, that would be gross. She had to stop thinking about that.

The light coming from the window opposite was already putting her in a bad mood. She closed the blind but found that it still filtered through. No, filtered wasn't the right word. Spread. Spilt. It spread like a wildfire and sat there on the wall. A little was spilling onto her page so she purposely moved it. Darkness was nice. Darkness let her think.

Voices swept past her door.

Ava sighed, closed her Biology textbook for a couple of seconds, and then opened it again. She was supposed to work in the shop soon- she had put it off for the past couple of days and already the confused questions were starting to appear. Are you sick? Job too much for you at the moment? She often got some tuts too. Tuts were her least favourite sound. They were disappointed sounds.

She should probably quit. That's what people would usually do- right? They would see that they weren't getting many customers, or that their boss wasn't paying them enough, and then would magically decide that that's it, they're done, and go off to live in the countryside. Putting it off just made it worse and she knew that. Putting it off was easy though. Putting it off was just easy, and she could do it for a long time.

The light was creeping towards her again. She got up, slammed the textbook onto the desk to sound dramatic- even though there was nobody in the room- and went to the bathroom. She brushed her hair back in the mirror and pulled a face.

"What are you doing?" she whispered to herself, disapprovingly.

She went and made herself a cup of tea, drinking it over the sink.

Money was a problem. More than a problem, in fact. So much of a problem that she was burrowing milk and butter from next door. But she desperately didn't want to go in the shop. She didn't want to.

She fought down the anger inside her. What was she doing? She had a job. Whenever she didn't go guilt wrapped her stomach up in knots. She should go. She should.

She made herself another cup of tea and stared at the wall, blinking. Her mind went empty for a couple of seconds. Resetting. She took a deep breath.

Ava pulled on a sweater, brushed her hair again, and felt the smooth cold of her keys in her palm as she stepped outside into the corridor.

Thankfully, it was empty. A few people milled around and talked to their neighbours, but nobody looked at her as she scurried towards the stairs. She stopped, (Ridiculous.) straightened up, and took smoother steps. The tea was not settling. Taking the steps was a bad idea. She stumbled past an elderly couple and opened the nearest door that went outside. 

Ava had spent nearly the entire train ride thinking about what it would be like if she had a good job. And what she could be doing instead of going to the one she had. She was trying to stop- it wasn't working. 

She had to get on several trains to get to the florist, leading her through winding, narrow streets and still buildings. The people sleepily opening up their stalls in the bright market square was the only indicator that the town was alive at this time. Trees gradually turned into bleached grey buildings reaching up out of Ava's sight, streets cracked and worn from the feet that walked on them every day. The inner city seemed to be even more claustrophobic and dirty than she could remember- with trees planted too close to office buildings (they reminded her of gnarled hands) the streetlights now a dappled grey instead of green, and the steadily growing potholes on the pavements.