Incendiary

3. Bad habits and subways

Nova

Bad habits are things we all carry. Each one is a burden.

Some people bite their nails, some leave laundry on the floor, and some don't do laundry at all. And some people have a net of bad habits they constantly get caught in.

I happen to be one of those people.

My bad habits flow throughout the day. A mixture of shit I can control and choose not to, and shit I have no control over.

My first bad habit is hitting snooze too many times. I groan in annoyance as the alarm screeches. Hitting snooze, I drift off again, but not even 10 seconds later, the stupid alarm starts ringing again

I make the mistake of fully opening my eyes. Great! Now I won't be able to fall back asleep.

I blink a few times, getting used to being awake. Then I pick up my phone and start going through the notifications. Another bad habit. One that I have no intention of breaking.

I read a few boring emails from work and go through texts from my friends. Then, I slowly rise out of bed and walk into the kitchen to make coffee.

The brown drug has become my life support over the many withering years. Every time I start my day without coffee, I end up in a horrid mood and get upset at the smallest inconveniences.

It's bad.

It's not an addiction but, I can't say it's not a problem. Another habit I don't plan on fixing.

I slowly put the coffee pod into the coffee machine- which happens to be the only thing I use in my kitchen- and watch as the hot liquid streams into the mug.

I prefer iced coffee but have no energy to make it, so I settle on hot and black.

When I take a sip, the bitter flavor coats my tongue, and the heat burns my throat. It's too overpowering for me, but I don't put it down.

Slowly drinking the coffee, I absentmindedly stare out of the window in my kitchen.

It's my most favorite view. It also happens to be the strangest one, as it overlooks an alley between my apartment and the building next door- where every morning, a flock of birds gathers to feed on whatever trash is on the floor.

I have given each of the birds a name, even though it's most likely not the same flock of birds every day. I always forget the names, so I have to change them every day. Those birds have come to be part of my everyday routine.

Normally, there's Quinn- a total bird-bitch. There's Gary- a total sweetheart. Elliot- who is lowkey a player. And there's Celia- she's the mom of the group.

However, today, I can't focus on any of them. Last night constantly replays in my head.

I keep thinking about what would have happened if Theo had said something to me last night. What would he say? What did I want him to say?

Sorry.

I wanted him to say sorry. I had known that much for the last few years.

Would I have forgiven him?

No. I would have told him to choke on his dick.

But he'd have to find it first.

Did he even remember me? Probably not. I wish she didn't remember him. I hadn't even said his name out loud in years.

I wondered if it would still taste the same on my tongue. Would it sound the same? Would it make me feel the same warm feeling?

No.