The Way I Feel

4. Put it in Ink.

~•~ LEO ~•~

The next morning is a carbon copy of the previous one. I'm dreaming about something that's interesting enough that it makes me want to stay asleep, when my door is busted down by the one man swat team that is my very own mother. And then I wake with a start, mumbling I'm up, I'm up! You know, the usual.

"No you're not! Andalé cariño, you do not want to be late."

"Mm, what time is it?"

"Eleven thirty, now-"

"Qué?! Mamá you were supposed to-ah! It doesn't matter, just..." I'm more than awake now, and am about to scramble out of bed. I gesture to the covers pooled around my waist and mom quickly gets the picture.

"Lo siento mijo, but you did not specify." She mutters as she shuffles back out the door and shuts it with a tad more grace than when she barrelled through it beforehand. I'm sure the hinges appreciate it just as much as I do.

And yes, I definitely could've been more specific when I asked her last night to make sure I was up before noon. It's not her fault I don't have an alarm clock. Well, it's not her fault they just don't work for me. Apparently my brain has just developed some sort of trauma response to the sound of my mom shouting at me, and now it's pretty much all that can wake me. There's a certain bite to her tone when she's pissed off that makes it hard to forget. And hard not to be terrified by.

I'm not exactly an athlete or anything, I mean I do love to swim and won a few competitions in high school, but that's besides the point. The point is that I somehow manage a quick shower and a rushed breakfast consisting of half-burned toast and an overly ripe banana, before I'm scrambling out of the apartment with ten minutes to spare. I'm panting and severely out of breath, sure, but it's still one hell of an achievement. One I would pat myself on the back for, if I had the energy to of course.

And I also dressed nice too. Well, it's not formal or anything, just some loose fitting jeans and a thrifted tee that hugs my torso like a second skin, but it's the only one that's clean so I make do with what I've got.

I like to think I did pretty well. Even though mom gave me a once over and just nodded silently in a way that communicated absolutely none of her thoughts. It leaves me with a fifty-fifty chance of whether it was silent approval, or silent judgment. Or both. With her it's anyone's guess really.

But I'm in a hurry, so I really have no interest in guessing. We're just going to go with approval because she let me go out in public wearing it, so I'm assuming she at least didn't hate it.

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I'm exiting the apartment building, the sharp city air reminding me that jackets are an essential part of every outfit. It's a cruel reminder because I just so happened to forget to bring one, so I pull out my phone and soldier on. It's not cold, but not exactly warm either. It's nearing the end of August now so it's no surprise really.

I'm not shocked to see the stream of texts from Mira, wondering about my whereabouts. Descending the six flights of stairs-because I'm frankly terrified of the rickety elevator-took longer than expected because curious attendants kept stopping me to ask if I was new and if I was settling in ok?

Normally I wouldn't mind, it's nice that they're polite and not crackheads. Not that crackheads aren't polite.

But today really isn't the day for it. I smiled through it of course, but it means that I'm now kind of later than I already was and feel like an asshole about it. I text Mira just that, and she quickly replies with another stream of texts.

It's fine, no stress man.

I was just worried you weren't gonna show.

I'm free for the next two hours so it's no rush.