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Passing time
CHAPTER ONE
Do you ever have the feeling in your life that the times you thought you were happy actually consumed you, but it was all a dream? A vivid dream that woke you up at 7 a.m. on a bright Saturday.
When the doorbell rang, I was in the middle of preparing breakfast for myself. I was dancing to Olivia Rodrigo's "Good 4 You." I was even singing along with them.
My slippers were across the room and I was barefoot, my hair was tucked in a very wild bun on top of my head, and I was wearing an oversized t-shirt that ended at least above my knees and covered everything. I did, however, appear to be a shambles.
I went to put on my slippers, forgetting I still had the wooden spoon in my hand from preparing a nice oats meal. I sat it somewhere on the island table and stepped out of the barely furnished kitchen, which didn't have much but had a sink, cabinets, a small fridge, and a stove. It wasn't much, but it provided me with a means of subsistence.
Turned left into the living room, which had almost nothing as well, so I was basically living to make ends meet in the most basic form possible.
I heard the doorbell ring again as I went to open it. Grabbing the handle, I opened the door, a fresh scent wafting into my home. A breath of fresh air, flowers, and a bustling neighbourhood. However, I couldn't miss the courier person, who was dressed all in blue and stood in front of my door. Beckham Scott, it appears, was his name. When I looked at him, he smiled. I returned the smile because I didn't want to be rude.
"Good morning, you have a messenger service." He said this as he reached into his bag for it. I studied it, perplexed by the service he was providing.
Who would send anything to me? I was alone the last time I checked. Especially after what has occurred.
TO BE CONTINUED...
© coleyyy
Do you ever have the feeling in your life that the times you thought you were happy actually consumed you, but it was all a dream? A vivid dream that woke you up at 7 a.m. on a bright Saturday.
When the doorbell rang, I was in the middle of preparing breakfast for myself. I was dancing to Olivia Rodrigo's "Good 4 You." I was even singing along with them.
My slippers were across the room and I was barefoot, my hair was tucked in a very wild bun on top of my head, and I was wearing an oversized t-shirt that ended at least above my knees and covered everything. I did, however, appear to be a shambles.
I went to put on my slippers, forgetting I still had the wooden spoon in my hand from preparing a nice oats meal. I sat it somewhere on the island table and stepped out of the barely furnished kitchen, which didn't have much but had a sink, cabinets, a small fridge, and a stove. It wasn't much, but it provided me with a means of subsistence.
Turned left into the living room, which had almost nothing as well, so I was basically living to make ends meet in the most basic form possible.
I heard the doorbell ring again as I went to open it. Grabbing the handle, I opened the door, a fresh scent wafting into my home. A breath of fresh air, flowers, and a bustling neighbourhood. However, I couldn't miss the courier person, who was dressed all in blue and stood in front of my door. Beckham Scott, it appears, was his name. When I looked at him, he smiled. I returned the smile because I didn't want to be rude.
"Good morning, you have a messenger service." He said this as he reached into his bag for it. I studied it, perplexed by the service he was providing.
Who would send anything to me? I was alone the last time I checked. Especially after what has occurred.
TO BE CONTINUED...
© coleyyy
