Fifteen Days

1 1 0
                                    

The day started quiet, as usual. The same old constant routine that I practiced before school every morning was getting old, but in the back of my clustered mind, I knew I only had a few more days left until I would finally be free. I'm a senior, and graduation is in fifteen days. "Just fifteen. More. Days," I think to myself. The next two weeks are going to be the slowest weeks of my life.

I swing my legs out of bed (slowly, but surely) and meander to the bathroom where I start my morning routine, which consists of showering, brushing my teeth, and throwing on the first thing I see in my closest. Today, that happened to be Adidas t-shirt that matched perfectly with the defiled pair of jeans that I wore yesterday.

I drive myself to school in my red convertible that has an identifiable lightning bolt shaped scratch on the side (don't ask me where it came from, because I honestly have no answer.) I park in my usual parking space that sits right in between where my two best friends park, but today, I notice something peculiar. Their cars weren't there. "Oh well," I think to myself. "They're probably sick or something." Then I walk inside, and sit down in the seat saved for me in the calculus room. As the bell rings, I start the countdown. Fifteen. More. Days.

To Be Determined LaterWhere stories live. Discover now