WINTER'S EDGE- ZAYN MALIK FANFIC.

Prologue

Prologue:

While the tempting smells of hot dog venders, metal buildings and fresh cement of Burrlock never failed to play a smile on her plush lips, the unfamiliar callings of other places occupied her mind. Her eyes, shielded by the dark sunglasses, flickered back and forth from the traffic lights to the innocent yet seemingly helpless tourists. Pushing the Ray Bans higher up onto her dished nose, she took weary steps off of the sidewalk and hastened across the street through the flood of people. She never really liked the fact that Burrlock was so congested with either busy or mindless people. She would on any day prefer to lay on her back in the middle of a thick, grassy field and embrace the sun's beams of light, or walk aimlessly along the shore somewhere, stopping to collect brilliant shells and let the ocean's tumbles collapse around her ankles.

~

She took a cup from one of the cupboards under the sink and kitchen counter, then picked up her pitcher of boiling water and poured some into it before anchoring her tea bag and letting it sit. She pulled her hoodie more snugly to her body, clutching to its hems and reverting to her comfy spot on the sofa. She pressed the mug to her chappy, near-blue lips, just barely letting the apple-cinnamon liquid glaze them. She shut her eyes, picturing the hot smoke erupt out of the chestnut-brown and tinted green surface of tea and morph into unclassifiable shapes as they swirled and evaporated into the air. She pressed her hands more intensely to the heated cup as she sipped and sipped again, with all desires for the heat in her hands to travel through her arms and diffuse throughout the rest of her body.

Opening her eyes again, filled with the warmth and comfort of her tea and home, she glanced at the large window that took up the main area of the wall to her right. The window was lightly frosted, even though snow had not yet fallen. She could take her skinny finger and draw hearts. She wondered if the windows were frozen; frozen to the point where she might have to take a kitchen knife to pry off the ice and with her strength, force the poor thing open.

She switched gears when she realized that her cup was empty. She stared down the mug, frowning slightly at its bare bottom, where the tea bag lay soggy and wrinkled.  Rising to her feet, she slid--in her thick, wool socks--across the hardwood floor and to the dishwasher. It was amazing that she could even afford one. Her job was relatively menial; she was only a cashier at a “Walmart” or “Target”-type store. It was called “Jimmy’s”. It was Burrlock’s biggest employer, partially the reason why the pay was so low. To top it all off, she was working at minimum wage: a very sad, $6.75 per hour.

~

She was nineteen when her life truly began, when she would experience adventures like inhaling a breath: they would become part of her. She would crave them. She would always be about looking for a new journey, a new adventure when she looked down into her hands and realizes that she had none. And soon enough, there would be no point in owning the studio-apartment, for she would never be in it. She would be too busy exploring each and every corner of the universe that was within her reach. No time for letting her aching backbones sink into the cushions of her L-shaped sofa. No time for losing track of time, staring carelessly out the window and letting her eyes wander. No time for Burrlock University, the best college anyone could attend in a 120-mile radius.

Those one hundred and twenty miles are all she knew. She had never dared to go beyond the perimeter that she so strictly set for herself. While all her life she craved adventure, she could never really find the courage or the inspiration to move beyond the edges. Not alone at least. She could do it, if she had just the right person to accompany her, to care for her and foster the loneliness and emptiness that seemed to characterize her being, the studio apartment, the neighborhood, the college, everything.