Colorless

Chapter One

"Just get through today, just one more day.” she whispers to herself as she stumbles through the crowded, smoggy streets of Berlin.

But what happens after one more day? What next? she thinks, trying to avoid puddles and intrusive street vendors. 

The bell complains with a bleak chime as she swings open the door to the next step in her morning routine.

Dark Roast. No cream, triple sugar. Anything else and its mixology.

The barista hands Lacey her lukewarm daily energizer, and gives her a weak smile and mumbles some sort of farewell.

Quickly leaving the coffee shop, which has to be violating at least ten health codes, she focuses on the next part of her meticulously organized plan of action.

A few more blocks, then work, then relax, then home. …how many more hours? Twelve? I can do twelve.

She steps up to the dark, heavy door to her work, the old building seems to tower over her, like a nightmare about to become reality. She takes a deep breath filled with determination and a bit of dread, and heaves the door open to whatever lies before her.

The minute she sits at her desk, the phone blares unexpectedly. Jumping from surprise, she quickly answers it, breathing out an exhausted, “Otis Elevator Company, this is Lacey.”

She flips her lifeless ashy brunette hair, and directs the caller to the right person for his concern.

...

Lunch consists of limp salad with cold chicken from the bustling cafeteria. Her crystal blue eyes flick from face to face, making note of the people around her.

Everyone seems so vacant, she thinks. Lives without life. No spark. Just drones, doing the same thing everyday.

Being one of the youngest employees at Otis Elevators, twenty-two year old Lacey doesn’t have many friends. As a native Chicagoan in Berlin, she feels like a fish out of water. The transfer was her choice, but the past year and a half hasn’t exactly been what she expected. Life in Berlin isn’t bad, but it isn’t great either. Finishing her salad, she goes back to her invigorating desk job as a receptionist.

After several hours, she feels the two o’clock lull. Heavy eye-lids plague her as she fights to keep focused. But her vision keeps crossing… and her head seems to weigh at least thirty extr

...

“Frauline Bunting? Fra… Lacey?” a German accent, laced with concern, beckons to the sleeping receptionist.

Roused from her sleep, Lacey snaps to attention, surprised at her fatigue. 

I can’t believe I dozed off. I've doing so well… I’ve been clean for at least a week and half.