two

800 43 12
                                    

The Morning After

The smell of pancakes and maple syrup wafted through the air as I woke up the next morning. The alarm clock had rung, loudly and shrill against my ears which had snapped me to consciousness. But the first thing I sensed was the smell of my favorite breakfast meal.

"'morning sunshine!" My dad said in a cheery tone as I stumbled out of my room and into the kitchen. Being a fairly small house that had only one floor, I'd been given a room that was pretty close to the kitchen/dining area. Not only had my sense of privacy been lost but the fact that my dad could wake me up whenever I wanted really got on my nerves.

"I made your favorite today!"

"Yippee," I muttered sarcastically, giving him the least friendly smile I could muster up at the moment before heading towards the bathroom.

Today was going to be a hideously long day. The reason? I'd be going to school and that was something I dreaded, more out of revulsion than anxiety. The warm water that poured down on my back was the only comfort I felt in the few minutes of relaxation the morning hours granted me.

So far, everyone I had met was so chipper and dandy in the neighborhood. Yesterday, while dad and I had been moving the boxes (most which were rather heavy), neighbors had made their way and offered their help. It was almost like utopia come to life in terms of how nice everyone had been. I didn't have a problem with that but I started to get the feeling my sense of pessimism would stick out so badly during our stay here.

I still felt pretty sour about the fact that I'd have to make new friends. Socializing was one of the problems I'd faced growing up. I tended to seclude myself from society, and it took me a while to even know that I was supposed to have friends in the first place.

My parents used to tell me I had some kind of a disorder - whether they'd been serious, I did not know. But I had a feeling this move would have the same effect on me, a repeat of those days of loneliness.

Which sane person would want that?


Thε Spαrklε Tooƒus (ACT I: Fall Term) ✓Where stories live. Discover now