A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

2

The blazing sun of the summer months makes me well aware of its presence.
The streaks of bright yellows and oranges cutting through my curtains like laser beams are ample reminders of the scorching heat and windless days of the summer holidays.

The heat engulfs the room, as the day begins to warm up, acting like a beckoning to get my lazy ass out of bed and get on with my day.

Two weeks into the summer holidays, two weeks spent learning the house; every creaky floorboard; memorising the length of the hallways, where all the rooms are, where the spiders are most likely to hide.

Two whole weeks of doing very little have begun to get to me, as I lay half covered in the linen sheets we dragged out of some old cardboard boxes the other day, and the thought of food has been so enticing.

"Eurghh"

The stretch I have as I sit up completely immobilises me, forcing an animalistic groan to emit from my maw and clicks and pops in my joints go off like little fireworks all in quick succession.

Trudging downstairs, one arm through a t-shirt sleeve and the other wrestling with the other, I am met with the silence of an empty downstairs.

"Sleeping." I mutter to myself, in reference to the rest of my family of course, and begrudgingly rifle through the cupboards and shelves of the kitchen.

The place is completely fucking barren.

We're due in a shopping run, but settling into a completely new environment has disturbed the natural weekly routine we had as a family, forcing us to act as a disoriented platoon of bellends.

The imposing silence of a, mostly, undisturbed household leaves me with only my thoughts, and those thoughts tell me to grab my wallet - with whatever money I have - and find somewhere to eat.

So I do just that, sliding my wallet from the counter where I left it last night after being momentarily panicked I left it in the car, nabbing my phone from my coat pocket hanging on my chair, and gingerly opening the door, being as respectful as I can.

The morning sun hits me like a damn freight train, the sweat on my extremities already beginning to build.
With the time approaching 9:30, I walk with care, checking every building and sign out in the hopes for a a shop or fast-food place so I can soothe the itch for food.

The end of the road brings me no joy, and I tread further through the winding streets, drawing a mental map of my route as I go. The city begins to build up more as I walk, becoming less suburban and more built up, with a couple offices and more shops and a restaurant every so often.

The shade of each building is certainly much appreciated as I spot a restaurant up the road, the vibrant sign adorned with the name "Anderson's" to go along with it.

Albeit not a fancy restaurant, by any stretch of the imagination, it surely does have the vibrancy of a nice place to be.

A little ring as I step in alerts the few already seated, mostly elderly folk avoiding the heavy rustle of later goers and a single mum with three noisy children at one of the window seats.

I take great effort in avoiding the looks of people, although they're undeniably harmless, as my heartbeat begins to rise and I feel a cold sweat wash over me, and I make myself as small as possible to cower at a moreso hidden window seat to the far right of the establishment.

I take out the earphones I had attached to my phone and put one of them in my ear, the ear facing the most amount of people, to drown out the sound and make myself feel more invisible.