The storm had just come in.
It was my favourite time of the day. It was the one thing I missed the most about Florida.
It was almost a culture shock, moving all the way up east coast in November. It was nothing like Florida. Life couldn't compare. I missed spending my day at the beach under an umbrella baking in tanning oil while reading a book with one earphone plugged into my ear and the other empty. I missed my sunrise swims and lazy nights watching the sunset with a stomach full of happiness.
I had certainly wasn't used to it. I don't know why I ever thought it would've been a good idea. Scratch that— I'm lying, I know exactly why I thought it would've been a good idea.
I didn't make the move easy on myself. Maybe that's why it all went to shit. I never made New York my home.
Sooner than I realised, I fell down this black hole of nothingness. I was awfully homesick. I was always tired, not just the kind of tired that you felt if you didn't get a good nights sleep.
I was mentally drained, of energy, of happiness.
I was living week to week, going through the motions automatically. The work never stopped, there was a never ending pile of coursework and events and papers that all needed to be completed.
It never stopped.
I felt like I was drowning.
But I was adamant to stick it out. I didn't want to drop out and come home to see the ultimate look of sympathy on my parent's face when I finally admitted that fashion school wasn't for me.
My parents weren't the ' I told you so' or the disappointed type but no matter how much they comforted me about it.
I still felt it—the failure deep in my bones.
I looked up to the grey clouds that overlapped, each one darker than the next, grumbling high above me from my kitchen window as I watered the angel fern plant pots on my windowsill. The clouds completely engulfed the clear blue sky from earlier when there wasn't a cloud in sight.
It was another unexpected storm but not much in Florida could be predicted especially not the weather.
I walked barefoot onto my balcony, with my coffee in one had, and my book tucked under my arm. I gently put the mug on the wooden table, stretching up on my tippy toes to lift the umbrella up.
It could be so nifty.
Bo, my twin brother, had bought me a garden set when I first moved in. It consisted of a large wooden round table with four other chairs that I never used. I loved it.
It was the perfect fit for my little garden terrace.
But the only thing was, my five foot three body could never reach the freakin' latch that held the umbrella in place.
YOU ARE READING
Golden girl
RomanceAudelia Buchanan has always lived in the shadows of her older brother's. She had never grown comfortable with the limelight her family attracted. Everyone knew that if you didn't paint a picture for the public, they would paint one for you. They say...