Burns

8.

Days have been flying with seconds soon becoming minutes and minutes soon becoming hours. Nothing had really changed, it was just been the same old routine of me waking up, sometimes eating and heading down to the shed to finish my work. It honestly felt like I've been living on fast forward. It's been three weeks already.

Brecley and I have been a little progressive. I knew a lot about her, thanks to her telling me. Our chats weren't really back and forth as expected which was wholeheartedly my fault. I wasn't really a talker and I didn't engage my phone as much as a regular teenager did. I was either working on my laptop which was basically a lot, or adding random tweaks to the old motorbike that I had bought from a scrap dealer a couple months ago.

I was adding new features to it so it soothed my taste more–remodelling, if you will. And if I wasn't doing that, then I was down on the floor doing pushups or sit ups or a little weightlifting with a plated-barbell that I put together. I pretty much did everything except socialize; it wasn't like I had a reason to anyway, but I was making a little effort because of Brecley. I didn't want to hurt her efforts, I didn't want to hurt her by being an asshole.

I sighed, pushed my laptop aside and threw my head backwards on the headrest of the wooden seat. I cracked my aching fingers along my neck, blowing out air, motivating myself to keep going. But it was useless. The moment my fingers landed on my keyboard and began typing, I found myself growling in frustration and I ended up furiously tapping back space.

I was hooked and no code written by me currently seemed to make sense to me. Mostly because my mind has been quite foggy for a while now and it was beyond frustrating. I couldn't think straight as much as I wanted to and it was driving me crazy. I needed absolute cooperation with my mind if I was ever going to be able to pitch my app.

I pushed myself off the seat, paced around frustratedly, sat my ass back on the seat, tried again, grew frustrated again, Repeat.

I gripped the edge of the white kitchen sink and glared at my laptop's bright screen. I licked my teeth and flounced towards the dining table and slammed my laptop shut in one swift arm movement. Without a choice, I decided to give it a rest after the repetition of pacing around, getting frustrated and growling grew ridiculous and unprogressive.

I glanced around, regretting that I had nothing else to do. I had concluded my work on Bill's car last night and I was beyond thrilled to have it looking good as new and sounding good as new as well. Yesterday just consisted of a little electrical wiring to get the engine alive, putting in the glass, painting it and giving the Thunderbird a good scrub. I was amazed by the time I was done, sometimes I outdid myself and ended up blowing myself away.

I felt my phone vibrate against the table and I strutted to it and gently picked it up. I stared at the text message before I saw a notification of an incoming call. It was Bill. Inhaling sharply, I answered the call, "good day sir,"

"Oye, say I got ya message. You said my car's ready, ain't it?" The noise in his environment which consisted of loud music and excessive chatter, hit my unready ear and made me wince.

"Yes, it is ready." I answered politely.

"Great. I've missed that car. I'm actually in Arlington currently, I'm attending my sister's engagement party... but ah, Winfield ain't so far from Arlington, yes?" He was practically screaming into the phone, trying so hard to be louder than the noise he was existing in. He probably thought I wasn't hearing him fine enough.

I found myself groaning at the loud tone that was hitting my delicate eardrums and contemplated telling him that I was hearing him just fine without the added bass because I honestly wasn't sure how long I might keep my hearing if this call continued. "Could you be a little less loud sir?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.