Snippet #1210660

Elle

Morning always came to soon. Its pale, cold fingers would dance along the wooden floors in my bedroom, somehow finding their way to shine through my lavender-hued curtains. Each day held practically the same routine, everything ordinary, nothing out of step or time, unless I was lucky. I'd groan at the time that my body chose to rouse, lean over, glance at the clock on my bedside table, roll my eyes and allow my willowy legs to untangle themselves from the snowy white sheets and pillow-top comforter I slept with. I never went to bed with anything more than what was required to seem decent in the presence of my roommate clothing my body, which was typically some cotton shorts and an sleeveless camisole. Rubbing my tired eyes, I would manage to awaken myself enough to stumble into the bathroom across the hall and jump into a cold shower and search through my closet for an appropriate outfit for the day. Then, the rest would be up to the city outside my windows.

I towel dried my hair until it wasn't so wet that it would soak through my blue v-necked tee shirt. Then, after pulling on some casual skinny jeans and a pair of easy-to-walk-in ballet flats, I left my bedroom and roamed down the hallway to find my roommate, Anika, in the kitchen, putting on a pot of strong coffee that was already smelling up the entire apartment. I'd heard her grinding beans a few moments earlier, and now my suspicions were confirmed as I strode over to the counter and pulled the loaf of honey wheat bread out of its box and smiled. "Good morning."

"'Mornin'," she replied sluggishly; typical. She wasn't cheery until she'd had her caffeine fix. She looked so mesmerized as she stared at the coffee pot, watching each drop of the liquid fall.

I emitted a faint laugh as I popped my bread into the toaster, preparing part of my breakfast that normally consisted of some turkey bacon, eggs, and of course, toast. Waiting for the bread to crisp, I reached into the refrigerator to pull out what I needed for the rest of my morning meal. Soon enough, within ten minutes, I had prepared a delicious plate of food and was lounging on the sofa beside Anika, sipping at my cream-diluted coffee as I watched her. "So, are you off work today?" I asked casually, munching on a piece of bacon.

"Yeah. I woke up with a pounding headache, so I called in sick," she dark-haired girl explained, taking a gulp from her mug.

"Ahh." I uttered. And that was practically the end of any important conversation. The rest of the morning was lacking when it came to interesting words exchanged between the two women.

---

Mid afternoon came quickly enough and soon, I was out and about, wandering the streets of Washington, D.C. with my eyes alert and my steps quick. I was always on the lookout for something inspiring, desperate to regain my muse. It was quite comical, according to Anika, who enjoyed poking fun at my "ways". I headed for the metro, figuring I'd look around some of the museums for a good part of the day, until that night that I had to perform at a local jazz bar. It was always like this; never knowing when my next show would be. I slightly longed to have a steady job, but the angst of not knowing when I'd get a call somehow kept me feeling like I was different. I didn't want to end up normal, like everyone else.