House of Cards

Xiley (7)

It had been one week since the incident involving Jungkook, Mingi, and myself. I hadn't heard from either of them. Mingi stayed true to his promise, and I couldn't be upset at him, because I said it was fine if he left.

It really was fine.

During the past week, I had dinner with Zaria, and a few of her friends.

Her best friend, Jimin, was always kind to me, and her newest friend Namjoon had pleasant mannerisms. I felt at ease around them because I could be a rock and they would still care for me like a human being. Gia also made an appearance at Zaria's mini gathering, and kept quiet about my recent endeavors. She still pulled me to the side to ask questions about the mystery man I was infatuated with, though.

I also attended work quietly.

Zaria hadn't been to work in a while due to the recent passing of her father, and Gia barely showed up to her mandated shifts. My group of regulars hadn't stopped in, and I was grateful for it after our last interaction. Even after the many months I spent in the club, it was odd being in a place that was bustling with energy, and not feeling an ounce of it running through my body as well.

My tranquil work schedule was probably one of the best things about the chaotic work environment, though. I spend four consecutive days working my ass off, and am rewarded with three peaceful days to myself. Tuesday's were for fruit picking, and playdates with Isabella and Maia. Wednesday's were spent lounging on the couch wondering how I ended up in such a sunken place, but never doing anything to fix it. Monday, however, was my favorite day of the week. Usually during my free-time before shifts, I worked on a painting to give to my Grandmother, and on Monday's I gave them to her.

She gifted me with many treasures when I was younger, and the only way I could repay her was to give her a part of me. So every Monday, I visited her and gave her a painting that would last many lifetimes. This past weekend, I worked on a piece that symbolizes the inability of love.

My car was parked in front of my Grandmother's house. The grass was overgrown, and there were flies circling once vibrant flowers. There were children walking through the tall grass, not enlightened on how many memories the neglected lawn held. I watched them enjoy themselves. I watched them live mindlessly. I watched them. They pushed each other around, nudging shoulders and clutching their abdomens from the workout laughter gives you. I suddenly remembered how much Jungkook made me laugh when we spent the evening together.

Everything was fine.

Stepping out of my car, I grabbed the painting and held it tightly at my chest. I began my journey to the house, locking the car doors behind me. The kids who were in front of the house waved to me, and I waved back, throwing a smile their way before tuning out my surroundings.

The wind was yelling at me. Telling me to go away. Telling me to get a better attitude. Telling me to adapt to my bitter life. If I hadn't had drinking weight, I probably would have blown away. My faux locs hadn't moved a bit, but I could feel the wind flowing through the crisp parts. The air was cold on my scalp, and caused a shiver to run down my spine. I unexpectedly found myself standing at the front door. There was a glass screen door that had to be opened to expose the actual front door. I pulled it open and knocked seven times. I found it to be the perfect amount of knocks. Enough to let those inside aware of your presence, and enough to not be dragged out, and annoying.

The canvas rested on my torso while I waited casually for a few moments. I could hear my Grandmother shuffling inside.

"Who is it?" She yelled out.

"It's me, Grandma." I yelled back.

"Oh, alright. I'm coming."

I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. My patience with my Grandmother was thick. Thicker than arctic ice.