The first thing I do after coming home, as always, is kick my dirty work boots off, this is a bad decision for this particular day as I remember it has been rainy on site today. The gravel dust from the quarry tends to turn into the worst gray sludge imaginable, which means as my shoes go flying towards the shoe rack they let out a splash of pale mud over the entryway of my apartment. Terrific. I shuffle around the splatter, and make a mental note to clean it up later. Next is my vest, neon yellow and ugly as sin, fold that up and set it on the end table. Honestly after the first two years, I no longer care about the fact that there will always be a little bit of grit left somewhere, either on me or my living space.
My hand fumbles through the couch cushion, searching for the TV remote absently as I set my wallet and keys down next to my vest, I snag the remote and turn the TV on to the news. Walking over to the fridge I swing it open slowly, crouching down to look inside, half a bottle of Pinot Noir.
"That'll do the trick." I mutter, snagging a whiskey glass from the cabinet, I fill it halfway and plop down on my couch to see how bad the rain is going to get.
"Record breaking winds in the northern valley today, leading to not only whipping rain, but downed power lines in several cities and townships. Be sure to stay away from windows and doors in case of-"
A local reporter begins listing off all the ways the weather is trying to kill us today while I flip open my phone to check for any messages. Plenty of notifications make their way into my eyeline but one in particular makes me pause. A timeline notification, three years ago today. My ears no longer focus on the noises of the news as I click on the notification and see a picture of Diana and I smiling at the camera, Aperol Spritz' up in a cheers motion.
"Those drinks were awful." I smile sadly at the photo.
Our one and only trip to Europe, the chance of a lifetime. Seriously, how often does your girlfriend's professor drop out on his plans to travel and just give the tickets away to whoever gets the highest score on the semester final? That was a good trip. I'd never been to so many brunches before in my life, but she'd insisted. I look up from my phone to the most frequently dusted shelf in the entire apartment, a little metal urn gleaming in the dim light coming from the TV. I can feel the lump in my throat form unbidden, heat rising to my eyes,
"NEW STAR WARS LEGO SET-" I'm startled out of my thoughts by a sudden loud ad blasting on the screen of the television, my jolting hands spill the wine I'd been sipping at and it splashes down my chest staining the shirt.
"Great.." I stand up, wiping the excess wine off my hands and onto my soiled shirt. "I needed a shower anyway." I mutter.
My bathroom is just next to the living room so it takes no time at all for me to get in there, shuck off my pants and socks, then turn the shower on. The water pours out in cold jets leaving a mist to chill my bare legs, so I close the curtain, turning to the mirror to take my hair down from the messy bun at the base of my skull, it gets stuck in the hair tie and I fiddle with it in my reflection for a good while. At last I am free of the elastic, leaving it on my wrist for later, I put my phone on the sink and plug it in. Water takes far too long to heat up in this old apartment, so I wait it out by trying to get the towel hanger to hang straight, though it never has in the 4 years I've lived here.
Rain slides down the bathroom window beside me in a sheet rather than streams, the storm outside having risen to a fever pitch, powerful enough to make the outside world inhospitable to anyone who isn't insane. I briefly wonder if my brother will make it to town on time with the weather. He still hasn't messaged me yet. I stare at my reflection in a porthole of clarity that I wipe into the fog covered surface of the mirror, shower still running behind me. I face myself, eyes hazel and tired, sandy blond eyebrows that I scrunch up at how exhausted my face looks. Manual labor tends to suck the soul right out of you after a while, though the muscles I've cultivated over the years are a plus. Remembering that I left the shower on as there's a lull in the storm I ruffle my wavy hair, and slide out of my wine stained shirt, grimacing at the sticky wetness against my chest hair. I jump once more as a rumble of thunder causes the windows to shake and the lights to flicker. A chill runs down my spine as I stand in flower print boxers with my shirt gripped in my hand, I peer out the window above the toilet and squint in suspicion at the blackness beyond the glass.
YOU ARE READING
Pooling Destiny: Mistery 1
ФэнтезиA work in progress about a fairly normal guy getting shunted into a new and strange world.
