Close Your Eyes and Jump

Chapter 1 ~ First encounter

Close your eyes, and jump…

 

My eyes shot open at the sound of my alarm. I groaned and rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, and bringing the sides up to cover my ears, in an attempt to block out the sound. As usual, it didn’t work, and I moved my hand round to slam down on my crappy little alarm clock. The sound shut off, but I knew I had to get up and get to work.

I reluctantly pushed myself up from my position, hovering there for a moment as I blinked my eyes a couple of times and yawned. I pushed myself off the bed and stretched as my eyes darted round to look across my crummy apartment.

My bedroom was plain, simply double bed on one wall, bedside cabinet beside that, and large wardrobe at the other end. Through the door adjacent to my bed was my living, dining and kitchen space. From where I stood I could see the tacky red sofa in the center of the room, half of the cheap dining table that I never used, and the fridge.

I walked out of my room, instantly rounding the corner into the bathroom. I never saw the point of shutting the door, as I live alone, so I just let it sway open.

I stripped off and hopped in the shower, turning it on. As usual, the water ran cold, and again I jumped back in shock, even though I knew it was going to happen. Quickly sticking my hand under the shower a couple of times, the water ran warm, and so I proceeded to wash.

I jumped out and grabbed a towel, not to wrap myself in, but to dry my hair with. Again, I live alone, so what’s the point in covering up.

I walk back into my room and grab my tasteless work clothes from the closet, as well as some clean underwear from the draws. I get dressed and wrap my hair in the towel, walking over to my window. I draw back the curtains and open the window, the sounds of the city and bird songs floods in. I look out to the bird’s singing, and snarl at them.

Walking out of my room and towards the kitchen, I quickly stuff some bread into the toaster before grabbing a brush and hair dryer. I dry my hair and quickly tie it into a ponytail before running to the toaster. As expected, the toast popped up as black and crusty as anything, but having no time to make anything else, I add some butter before grabbing my handbag and keys, leaving the apartment as a eat what was supposed to be my breakfast.

Running down the three flights of stairs, I exit the building as I finish my toast. It takes me five minuets before I reach the city.

Naturally, the streets of London are significantly busy. Cars, cabs and red busses pass by as floods of people rush to get to work, me amongst them.

I dodge past the grumpy morning rush, avoiding the morning venders as they try to flog everything and anything.

I narrowly miss getting run over by a mother pushing a pram as I enter the coffee shop where I work.

I know, how cliché, the girl who lives in a crappy apartment works as a barista.

I greet my colleague and friend jack with a nod before scooting into the back. I put away my bag and grab my dark, sick green apron, to put on before I reach for my nametag. I read it in my mind sarcastically.