Painting Counties Blue!

𝚘𝚗𝚎.

· · ──────·ピシビ·────── · ·

𝟸/𝟸 𝟾:𝟺𝟻𝙿𝙼

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. I save my progress on my laptop and rip off another order strip from the pad, using the pen I'd been using for my notes to check off another coffee, and a few fudge brownies. I need a break. Being an editor is difficult, especially when the author is shit at their job, and when they have very strict, limited deadlines, granted that she only sends me one chapter to edit at a time, but that doesn't change the fact that she's incredibly bad at her job, or how stressful and time consuming it is! I mean she doesn't even capitalize her 'I's and it pisses me off. I mean, put a little passion into it, lady. You can't expect me to write the whole story for you.

I unanimatedly set the order sheet at the edge of the table with frustration, then lean back in my seat, fiddling with one of my rings. I gaze out of the window into the darkness outside, the only light every now and then from street lamps or being cast out of the windows. Though I didn't see so much of the latter as it was getting near the general closing time and people were getting ready to head out.

What is the time?

I glance down at the bottom right corner of the computer screen. 8:52PM. It's winter. So it makes sense that it's already dark. I start to notice light taps at the window as they slowly grow louder and more consistent. Looking out the window, into the pool of light directly outside my table's view through the frame of glass, I notice the small specks of rain as they dart towards the ground, highlighted by the light that shines from the lamp above.

I sit inside a 24/7 café, located on the corner of the block. My apartment building loomed only another block away. Quite convenient in my opinion. I come here often to do my work because it's usually more quiet than my own home, and I don't need to get up to make my own coffee here, someone serves it for me.

The waitress comes to collect my empty coffee cup and order request.

"You've been here for a while, miss. Do you think it might be healthy to go home and get some rest?" The old woman smiles. I offer the most convincing grin I can, despite my mood.

"I just need to finish my work. This café is a better suitable workspace than my own room" I explain, to which the lady dismisses with a small smile and a nod, turning to retrieve my requested order. I shake my head, yawning as I return to my work, eager to get home to savior a few precious hours of sleep.

I finally edit the last sentence in the chapter, reread it and send it back off to the dumb woman. Shutting my laptop, I stuff the last of my brownie into my mouth, glancing out the window into the rain before washing the food down with the few remaining gulps of coffee.

I slide my laptop and notebook into the book pocket of my backpack, set my phone in my pocket after checking the time again (10:02), and drop my pen into my pencil case, then zip up my bag before slinging it over my shoulder as I make my way towards the counter.

After paying the final total–which wasn't actually that much, surprisingly–I leave the café, submerging myself into the rainy environment. Quickening my pace, I make my way down the street towards my towering apartment.

I avoid puddles, as to keep my shoes clean and not soak my feet. That would be miserable. Crossing the road, I glance around. The streets are understandably empty. It's late, cold, and wet. But I don't mind it, other than the gusts of freezing wind that blow right through the protection of my–now wet–clothing straight to my skin, and chilling me to the bone. Not nice. And it's winter.

I push open the door to the tall building, and press the button to summon the elevator. It comes almost immediately, the heavy doors making metallic sounds as they slowly open, welcoming me into the transport box. I notice my dripping reflection in the mirror at the back.

I'm drenched. My hair looks terrible and scraggly, the colour of my sweatshirt (especially the shoulders) has darkened, due to the dampness, even my jeans are wet. Where I stand, a puddle of water is collecting from my dripping hair, and already wet shoes.

So much for having a relaxing evening. Now I have washing to do! Yay! Note the fucking sarcasm. I let out breathy groan as I comb my fingers through my hair, ignoring the small amount of makeup that still somehow managed to get smudged.

The elevator door finally opens at my level and I gladly step away from my scary reflection and rush across to my door, sliding my key into the lock, and listening to the click, as I twisted it. Throwing the door open, I slip off my shoes as soon as I step foot into the entrance coat area, I set the pair of drenched shoes on the shoe rack to dry before turning to pull my key out of the lock, and closing the door again, only to return it to its locked state, but now with me housed inside.

I hang up my bag before switching on the lights, and trudging to my bedroom. The clothes stuck to my skin ickily as I peel them from my body. Bare-skinned and freezing, I stride across the hall into the laundry, dumping the wet clothes into the washing machine, along with the others that sat inside the hamper.

Switching the washer on, I leave to the living room, turning on the floor heating, and the heat vents in the ceiling, before practically running to the bathroom to turn on the shower water, leaving to grab a towel and a pair of comfortable clothes as the water heated up.

♪ ───☆彡★彡☆─── ♪