Only two years ago, your fiancé left you at the altar, leaving you standing there looking stupid as he ran off to California with another man. Now, living alone in a house the two of you used to share, you just drift through the motions of daily lif...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Your House)
You sigh quietly as you look at the ticking clock on the wall. It's 5:15 in the morning, and the faintest traces of the morning light were shining through the window. Sure, you had an hour to yourself to do whatever you wanted like watch TV, make an early breakfast, or maybe go for a jog around the neighborhood, but you just don't feel like it.
Maybe a couple of years ago, you would've liked getting a head start on the day, but now you just waited for your days to be over. Putting on a fake smile at work, letting all of your coworkers know that you were happier than you really were, even though the hint of a smile through your face mask wasn't even real. Very rarely nowadays, was your smile real.
You look at your slightly fogged window, and see that the house across from you had one of the lights on. An upstairs room that belonged to the neighbors son, and he was probably getting ready so he could catch the bus. You didn't even know the kids name, or those of his parents, but they were nice people.
The mom, a blonde woman in her late thirties, always made a habit of waving to you or starting some idle conversation whenever she felt extra talkative. The dad was a little different though, as he, a large man with a military style haircut, usually just gave you a nod when he saw you, which you returned. Their kid usually liked riding his bike around the neighborhood every once in a while, and he usually waved as well.
Turning your head away from your window, you stare straight ahead. The wall a few feet in front of your bed was completely empty, save for the black clock on it, still incessant with its quiet ticking and tocking.
5:16.
Time moves too slow.
Letting out a small yawn, you decide that you should just get a head start on the day anyways. Moving your covers off of your body with an arm, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and let them hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud, before unplugging your phone from its charger.
Only the good night text from your mom was on the screen, that she sent at 12 AM, long after you had fallen asleep. You chuckle, since she always liked staying up late to watch her favorite shows, or lose herself in a good book.
Putting the phone on the bed, you stand up and stretch, before making your way out of the bedroom and downstairs towards the laundry room, which was tucked away in the back of the kitchen, by the door to the garage. You had washed and dried your scrubs the night before, so they should be ready to wear now. Trudging down the stairs, your hand dragging along the rail, you let out yet another yawn. Of course you get tired right as you begin to move around...
Finally, you reach the bottom of the stairs, your bare feet connecting with the hardwood floor as you walk past your front door, past the living room, and through the kitchen, and around the corner, where the door to the basement is to reach the "laundry room," which was really just a corner of the basement where the washer and dryer was.
