"i'm on..warm milk..and laxatives.."
i contently hummed along to the mellow-for-the-moment song that emitted softly from the speaker of my beloved portable insignia cd player. usually, i would prefer the volume to be so high that i could feel every miniscule instrumental pound beneath my bones, but i didn't want to blow the ears off of my only friend who sat on the other end of a mostly comfortably silent phone call.
my cell laid upon the smooth surface of my mahogany dresser, between the music and an unlit lilac-scented candle. it was this sort of atmosphere that i cherished. absorbing some tunes on a saturday morning, watching incense smoke drift against the hazy sunlight that sheepishly glowed from the window immediately behind where the aroma-filled stick was propped up. of course, the ambience could never beat occasionally rambling about fuck all to the student that was brave enough to approach the new foreign girl in high school some years ago.
a tiny clink penetrated the peaceful energy shortly before she spoke up. "uh, i have this lip gloss that i don't actually think i'm ever gonna use. you want it?"
i scoffed at her proposition. "i don't put goop on my face," i vehemently refused. while i wasn't the type to criticize anyone else for their own aesthetic decisions, makeup seemed to suffocate and irk me more than anything else. i knew that she heard the barely audible twisting and popping of the cap of the bottle of black nail polish i opened, because she retorted, "but you put goop on your fingers."
i smirked as i carefully and deliberately coated my index finger with polish only a few shades darker than my ebony hair, deciding to change the subject. "we're still on for tonight, yes?" i asked hopefully, momentarily gazing up at my own reflection in my dresser's scratched mirror as if my pleading expression could travel through it and into her mind. "i put together some travy to protect you, in case i lose you in the crowd." i was sincerely referencing the compact bag of crushed alder and citronella leaves, with fennel seeds sprinkled in, that was tied securely and rested atop my bedside table. much to my dismay, i sensed that she rolled her eyes. the gesture was easy to detect, given the small huff that preceded her words.
"i still don't get why you're so psyched about that band," she remarked before passively adding, "or that witchy stuff."
my russian accent seeped into my speech, provoked by my irritation at her last comment. "do i have to tell you the entire history for the hundredth time, ashley, or what?" i demanded. "about the underground, when the christians came? the rodnover? the volkvhy? we were the last ones to, ah, let go! of the paganism!" i refrained from waving my hands around, as i normally would during a rant, because of the task i was attempting to half-focus on.
"okay, okay!" ashley nervously backtracked, her voice wavering. "i know it's your heritage, sorry.." she mumbled, letting out a long sigh and quelling any other vendetta i could hold against her when she finished, "..and yeah, i'll go with you tonight to see, um..what're they called again?"
with the nails on my left hand nearly finished, i smugly answered, "nirvana."