moral orel | clay x reader

i wanna go home

You grinned at the thoughts. They were certainly positive, at least.

You found your car near the diner you were at and unlocked it, climbing in and shutting the door. You started the car, turning on the radio.

As the radio played some of the normally religious music, you happily drove home. Your encounters today certainly boosted your mood.

Not long into the drive, you arrived at your house. Pulling into the driveway, you got out of the car and locked the doors.

You walked to your front door and opened it, walking in and locking it behind you. You turned the lights on, rummaging through your refrigerator.

There wasn't much food as you didn't go grocery shopping yet, but there were some snacks and a little bit of scraps that could be thrown together for dinner. You prepared a sandwich and soup, getting the bread and then some miscellaneous meats.

Then cheese, mustard, the can of soup, and you began working. One slice of bread down, meat, cheese, mustard, meat, bread, slide it over.

Bread, meat, cheese, mustard, meat, bread, slide it over. You opened the can and poured it into a bowl, and microwaved it.

Yes, you were too lazy to use a stove. Who really cared?

You plated the sandwiches, set down a napkin, and put a spoon down at the dinner table. You lit the white candle in the middle with a matchbox hanging around.

Hearing the microwave beep, you opened it and put the soup on the table. You shut the microwave and sat down, taking a small taste of the soup after blowing on it to cool it down.

It was thoroughly heated to your liking, and you took a bite of one of the sandwiches. Also pretty good.

You were satisfied with your cooking skills tonight. You enjoyed the candlelight as you ate your poor man's meal.

You stood up and cleaned your dishes, putting them in the rack. Checking your phone, you sighed contently.

There were just the usual notifications, as you didn't really have that many friends. Nobody wanted to befriend a therapist, as they usually got underpaid.

You scrolled on some social media and walked into your room, climbing into bed. You yawned, it was now around 7pm.

Not an ideal bedtime, but if you wanted to go to work at 9am tomorrow, you would probably have to wake up at 8am. And to do that, you would want to go to bed at midnight or earlier.

Which gave you plenty of free time! So you got up and got ready for bed anyway, putting on your nightwear and brushing your teeth.

Once you were finally done, you sat down at your desk and reviewed everything. You had to go to work at Therapy Clinic at 9am tomorrow, and you knew where it was.

It was on the outskirts of the town, you had drove past it when you were first getting there in the morning. It had a clean look to it, and you were looking forward to seeing it again in daylight.

You even looked at the interview they gave you through email too, listing why you wanted to become a therapist and why you're interested for the position. You didn't really deem yourself lucky for applying, more just grateful.

You were still excited for your job though, of course! You just weren't too fond of the town, albeit hoping for the best.

You had more expected a much worse neighborhood for the obvious desperation for workers. The pay was higher than most, and the place was almost never heard of, despite being the capital city of Statesota.

But it was much more like a town, or village. It was rather small to be called a capital, or even a city.

There were rumors about it, though. You didn't listen, but occasionally, it was used as a threat by parents to their children.

Stuff like "If you don't behave, I'll send you to Moralton!" and "Those people in Moralton are crazy, idiotic, hyper-religious saints!".

"You wouldn't want to be sent there, would you?!" The place certainly had a bad reputation, let's leave it at that.

But that didn't mean you couldn't enjoy it, right? The kindness of the town was surely a better pro than the con of having to go to church every morning.

Normally you wouldn't bother, but it was best to be liked by the town, pretending to be normal. Normal to their standards, though.

Plus, it couldn't be that bad. There were tons of shitty churches, what was the chance this one was so bad?

The thoughts anxiously swam in your mind. What about work tomorrow?

Oh, right. Well, it was now almost 10pm, so it was a good time to sleep.

Or you could be up for 2 more hours? Sure, why not?

You went onto YouSee and watched some videos absentmindedly, just focusing on entertaining yourself. You just needed something to do before you went to bed.

That was until you got a text that made your heart skip a beat in sudden fear. You read it, and you were much more relieved.

The text was from your boss, Lanel Cunstock (pronounced lay-null cuh-nn-stock). It was just her reminding you that you had to come in at 9am, and informing you that you will be the only open therapist.

You texted back an okay, sighing. She had your number from the interview, of course, you just didn't expect her to text you.

You added her number as a contact before going back to watching mindless videos. She must've been the only other normal person in Moralton, to have a modern phone.

Perhaps she didn't believe in the tradition, who knows? You were just pretty glad that you could text her instead of having to use the wallphone that came with your house to reach her.

Not to mention the radio that also came with the house, or writing letters. It would be pretty inconvenient.