HAPPY HOUR

Impressions

Taiga's grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear, an irrepressible expression of joy. This night held a significance she couldn't quite shake off – not only had she served two Yautjas, but she had managed to captivate them, if only for a fleeting moment. The memory of their imposing figures striding into the bar lingered in her mind like a haunting melody. The initial apprehension she felt at their presence had given way to a sense of accomplishment; she had faced the unknown and emerged victorious.

As she made her way home, she couldn't help but replay their interaction in her mind, each moment etched vividly in her memory. It was clear to her that they harbored a curiosity about humans, especially those who were not warriors. The thought sent shivers down her spine – if even her wildest imaginings couldn't grasp the extent of their battles, what kind of adversaries were they?

The taller of the two had left an indelible impression on her, his mere presence stirring something primal within her. She mentally chastised herself for being so affected, but his commanding presence was undeniable. The way he spoke, with a regal air and an unwavering confidence, was nothing short of mesmerizing. In his presence, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of awe and apprehension, tinged with a hint of fascination.

The cacophony emanating from her house sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. Desiring to prolong the tranquility of her evening, she avoided confronting the impending chaos within. With nimble feet and practiced hands, she effortlessly leaped from the fence to the roof, moving cautiously to reach her bedroom window. Silently, she secured the multitude of locks on her door, ensuring a barrier against the discord beyond.

Content with the newfound solitude, she retrieved a pack of chips and a can of soda from her covert emergency stash. Nestling into the far corner, she sought solace in the simplicity of snacks, creating a temporary peaceful atmosphere.

The attic was cozy, not much room to stretch. No fancy bed, just an old but comfortable mattress on the floor. A small chest of drawers tucked in the corner kept her clothes in order. Next to the round window, there was a simple dresser with a mirror – a modest touch to the humble space that Taiga called home.

Living amidst the chaos of addiction had forced Taiga to become a master of concealment. In a corner of her room, hidden from prying eyes, she had discovered a small alcove beneath a loose floorboard. It was here that she safeguarded the treasures she held dear, carefully tucked away from the unpredictable whims of her mother's addiction.

Amongst the scattered debris of neglect, a weathered table stood defiantly, serving as the keeper of her most cherished possessions. Nestled upon its worn surface lay her drawing materials, a refuge for her creativity amidst the turmoil. Alongside them rested her mother's old jewelry, heirlooms she was meant to inherit but had salvaged from the wreckage of her mother's decline. Each piece held a bittersweet memory, a reminder of the woman her mother once was before addiction consumed her.

At the very back of the alcove, nestled within the shadows, lay her most prized possession – a weathered diary, its pages filled with the secrets of her heart and soul. Here, in the sanctuary of her hiding spot, Taiga would spend most of her time.

Drowning out the discord with music in her headphones, Taiga immersed herself in the world of her sketchpad. A knowing smile graced her lips as her skilled hands brought forth the familiar contours of him onto the canvas. With unwavering focus, she meticulously etched the details – his weathered skin, the scars that told tales of battles, the distinctive mark on his forehead, the sinewy muscles, and the intricate armor that adorned him.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, frustration seized her. Despite her efforts, recreating the intensity of his eyes proved elusive. She wanted to see those eyes again.

Tired and now mildly frustrated by her inability to capture his eyes,  Taiga concluded that she desperately needed a bath. Turning her music off she breaths in relief. They were probably passed out cold somewhere in the house. That was her chance.

After putting back her art materials on their place she grabbed the basket with her toiletries and silently made her was to the bathroom. Again she had to clean it before even thinking about using it. Taiga was basking in the soothing shower when a knock on the door made her freeze.

"Mary Ann, when you are done could please come down?"

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Heeeey people...

So I am having some real life issues and it is messing with my writing schedule...

Soon I will be back to normal. I decided that Happy Hour will be a little more fast paced than what I first intent, but it will be still good... I promise.

Love y'all.