Chasing Perfect

Chapter 1.3

A dreary heaviness was all she could feel: the weight of the world holding her down and slowly suffocating her. With each minute and shallow breath she would take, the weight would crush down on her even more, like a snake slowly constricting her until she could no longer breathe in at all. This familiar feeling – the feeling of despotism weighing her down – brought her to a panic until she could just make out an incessant noise coming from above, almost as if she was underwater and the sound was slowly pulling her towards the surface.

            The high-pitched beeping of an alarm clock shattered the still silence of the early morning. Through sleepy eyes, Abigail reached to her bedside for the offending device and slammed her hand down on it to make the irritating noise cease. After rubbing her eyes to clear them of the night's sleep, she basked in a stray, illuminating sunbeam as it pierced the drab white curtains over the window.

            For a moment she simply sat up and enjoyed the beauty of the sunlight that was shining through to her, making her momentarily forget about everything else. There was no strict governing power making her feel out of place every time she had a thought. There was no plague of ringlets on her head that she would soon have to straighten into oblivion to match the hair of every other girl in town. And there was no closet full of dresses that she loathed waiting for her to put on and become just like every single person in the city: plain and perfect.

            But, she soon realized, the calm of the morning couldn't take away all of her thoughts. One thing remained on her mind no matter how she tried to push it away. Alex. She ran over bits of their conversation from the night before in her mind, trying to decipher her feelings. But, as it was so early, she knew she wouldn't be able to confidently make any sort of decision right now.

            Abigail slowly extricated herself from the comforter and sheets to begin her tedious routine and mundane day. As her feet touched the cool hardwood floor, she took in a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the day's struggles. Her feet padded lightly against the floor as she made her way across the hall to the small bathroom. Taking in her appearance in the morning light, she did find herself beautiful. Abruptly, she jerked her hand back from the hair she was trying to tame and mentally slapped herself for the illegal and vain thoughts that were running through her mind. Beauty is vain, after all. At least, that's what she was always taught.

            After getting herself ready and dressed she stood in front of her bedroom mirror taking in her appearance. She looked bland, matching the background of her dull colored walls. Oh how she wished she could be proud of her beauty. She wanted more than anything for someone else to admire her, as well. But the strict governing laws called for absolute modesty and humility, in all aspects of life.

            Before heading downstairs, Abigail made one more quick trip to her closet to retrieve her hideous practical shoes. She slipped them on her feet before morosely making her way down the stairs and into her kitchen. In front of the stove on the back wall, her mother stood cooking eggs, bacon, and toast, while her father was at work setting the table. The delicious smell of the frying bacon reached Abigail's nose and as if in response, her stomach rumbled, notifying her of her hunger. The kitchen was not very large, which made it surprising that her parents didn't run into each other as they navigated around the area with their tasks.

            While she watched them work, she couldn't help but notice that the two of them wore matching ensembles. The pale green of her mother's dress, which was a plain design like her own, was a compliment of the green of the button down shirt her father had paired with his khaki pants. She stood admiring the two of them a few minutes before they noticed her presence. Her mother was a stunning creature to look at; she made being perfect look effortless. With blonde hair and green eyes, her natural elegance was only accentuated by the green of the dress. But, being a stickler of the laws, her mother would never do anything to bring attention to her own beauty.

            It was her father who gave Abigail many of her traits, however. With brown eyes and dark wavy hair, there was no denying a relationship between the two. As a child, Abigail had often been jealous of her mother's many positive traits, but as she grew older, she began to appreciate her own appearance more and more, even though she knew she shouldn't. The consequences were steep, even for her thoughts.

            "Good morning, dear," her father greeted her happily.

            Using the most cheerful voice she could muster, she returned the greeting.

            Her father finished setting the table at the same time her mother finished cooking, a result of years of the same daily routine. Following her parents to the small wooden table with the plates of food, Abigail pulled out her customary chair across from her mother and sat down. The rich scent of the bacon and eggs filled her nose as she picked up her fork to take a bite of the delicious food her mother prepared. The flavor of the lightly seasoned eggs was divine, and Abigail found herself eating faster than usual.

As she sat eating, she listened to her parents talking to each other as they did every morning, discussing their plans for the day. As her father detailed his work schedule, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering to thoughts of Alex. With such a rebellious attitude, she couldn't imagine how he made it through life each day without some sort of repercussions. But, as she pondered on it further, she realized that perhaps the reason she hadn't recognized them at the assembly was because they weren't from Louxe at all. Is that what Alex had meant last night when he said he was going home? Did he mean outside the city walls?

She shook the thoughts from her mind as she tried to pay closer attention to the conversation at hand.  But even with her best attempts at concentration, her mind was never far from the mysterious boy and the perplexing details of his life.