crescent [h.s]

5

Aurora Adler

Monday.

It's Monday.

I'm wearing a tight, white long sleeved dress, a comfy item that is soft on my bump, but does a beautiful job of accentuating my stomach. It has a small slit on my left thigh, and is slightly lower in the front than most of my items of clothing– but this just happened to be the comfiest and cleanest outfit I had hanging up.

I sprayed the same perfume I wore on Saturday, and brushed out the curls I did last night whilst watching another documentary– needing to fill my time somehow.

As it is quite overcast, I can get away with wearing a long sleeved dress in August, which works well in my favour, due to being extremely behind on my laundry.

Like always, I walk to Deli's office, my large water bottle in my hand, me taking regular sips during this 10 minute journey. I swear, this little pomegranate is making me so dehydrated.

The double glass doors open automatically after I press a button, an immediate artificial coolness washing over me. I hug my arms around my chest, my bottle hooked onto my index finger as I wait at the elevators, pressing the button to take me to the top floor.

I always forget how put together Deli's life really is until I come here. The pristine office building, glass windows that are as high as the walls– overlooking the beach and the natural light brightening up the office, really puts my average looking makeshift art studio to shame.

It's the type of place where everyone dreams of working.

She even has a vending machine where you put in tokens instead of money. Not to mention, the tokens are located next to the machine– for free.

I step into the elevator and the doors automatically shut behind me. I take another large sip of my ice cold water, my throat becoming dry already.

Once the elevator doors reopen on Deli's floor, I make my way across the marble floor, my shoes slightly squeaking as I walk. On this floor, it's only Deli's office and two more– those other two offices being the... executive? Creative? Producer? Director?

If I'm being honest, I have no idea who's working in those offices.

Once I reach her office door, my eyes slightly widen as I see the door shut. She never has the door shut. At least she doesn't when she's expecting me.

Her door is a heavy wood, meaning it's soundproof and you can't see in.

Out of confusion, I hesitantly lift my hand and knock– in a weird pattern so she knows it's me.

I hear her voice shout through the walls, "Who is it?" 

"The queen." I reply dryly, because she knows I'm coming. I sent her a text not even 10 minutes ago– which she responded to.