Blind Fantasy

CHAPTER 4: There's A First For Everything

A/N: For my old readers, this is an old chapter. I had deleted, but I decided to keep it. A New Chapter will be posted for you all this Friday in honor of Valentine'sDay. Ok. :) And enjoy, to my new readers.

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"Okay." I sighed, "I guess my hair is as straight as it's going to get today."

I was defeated. Some days, my hair cooperates and turns out perfectly straight like I like it, but I could tell today was going to be one of those days. Oh well, I thought. It wasn't like it was a complete mess; it was a cute type of curly. 

I started remembering my old friend whose hair was always this texture. She hated it, since hers would never straighten like I can do with mine, but I told her it felt great, and the others assured her it looked great. And surely it did. My old friends always looked out for me and each other and they would never lie to one another. If I'd put on something ridiculous, they'd send me back into the house and help me out, or even let me borrow something of theirs. Gah, I really miss them. Now I'll have to settle with my mom’s opinion, but I trusted her style as well. The girls always told me if they weren't around, she was the best alternative. 

I sighed again, knowing it wouldn't be the same.

But today starts a new day that I can make new friends! Or at least better my relationships with the few people I've been oh so lucky to meet. I was starting to feel better already, and decided to continue getting ready. I stood up from my vanity, putting my brush down, and headed over to my closet. After opening it, I glided my hand across all the various outfits. It took some time, but I eventually stopped. This felt like that shirt I liked so much, it was super comfortable, and would go great with today's warm, yet breezy weather.

I unhooked the shirt from the closet rack and carefully scurried downstairs to the kitchen where my mother was. She was preparing breakfast. Still holding the shirt in hand, I called her name to get her attention.

"Mom," I said anxious.

"Good morning. You seem like you're in a hurry? How's about sitting and having some breakfast? It's almost done."

Here voice was distant; I was standing in the doorway and she must've been talking from the stove.

"Good morning. And I am in a hurry! I need an opinion." I paused to give her time to look up. Hoping she was now, I continued, "Is this that shirt that I like, you know, that comfortable shirt?" 

"Honey, you still have at least two hours before school, you woke up too early." she giggled. "But no, that's not that shirt. It's made out of the same material though, and I think you'll like it. It's better than the other one." 

"Ah, really?" I didn't realize I had a lot of shirts in this same material, and the stitching of the pattern felt familiar, too. "Are you sure it looks okay?"

"Yes, it's a new shirt." She said. "But, sit first and have some breakfast. You have plenty of time, I promise." 

I couldn't say no to that, so I sat the shirt down on an armchair we had nearby, and walked back over, into the kitchen. Once I'd taken a second to calm down, I finally realized how good everything smelled. I guessed, maybe we're having pancakes? My question was answered once I smelled the yummy aroma of syrup.

My mom was fixing my plate, and soon enough she sat it in front of me. I thanked her, because I couldn't do that enough. Both my parents did more stuff for me than I'd liked. I preferred taking the risk of doing things for myself sometimes, to get better at tending to my own needs, but they often insisted. And not because they thought I couldn't, I assure you they knew I could do plenty, but because they were those kind of people; sweet, helpful, and a tad too persistent.