Tulips & The Daily

Part one - Working with you (I think you're full of shit)

The grey skies should have been enough to warn her; the forecast had suggested a downpour. It shouldn't have been a surprise when a single drop landed softly on her forehead. Yet, there she stood, sheltered beneath the sprawling branches of an old tree, and she chose to shrug it off.  Just minutes later, her socks were completely drenched, the squishy fabric clinging uncomfortably to her feet. What was worse was; she could barely run in her Birkenstocks, their straps slipping with every step. The air was laced with a cold autumn chill that cut through her, leaving her shivering. Her wool trench coat, now felt heavy and sodden, weighed down by the relentless rain that drummed against it. Still, Nora chose to keep her head held high. Glancing at her watch, she noted it was 7:35. She was only ten minutes away from school, and there might still be time to dry off. Hopefully. The final stretch of road conspired against her Birkenstocks, with thick mud slithering up the sides, each step producing a wet, squelching sound that echoed in the damp air. Her bangs clung to her forehead, damp and heavy. By the time she reached the front gate, a numbness had settled over her entire body, and her fingertips were flushed crimson from the cold. 

As she stepped inside, the warm, heated air of the grey entrance hall enveloped her like a comforting embrace. The yellow lights flickered softly overhead, casting a warm glow on the worn, faded walls of the building. The cleaners were mopping the scuffed floor in silence. The air was thick with stillness, and the quiet of the early morning settled around her. She preferred the peace that came early in the morning. The first subject today was English and the room was empty upon her arrival. No one seemed to care about tardiness anymore. Within just two days of school starting, her peers had begun arriving five minutes before class—or most, after class had started.The rain was dancing down the window, little rivulets cascading like liquid ribbons against the glass, blurring the world outside. She set her bag down with a soft thud on the floor, the fabric still glistening from the downpour. Sitting on the edge of the chair, she pulled out her compact mirror, its surface catching the dim light like a small, reflective jewel. As she flicked it open, the image that greeted her was disheartening. Her mascara had melted into dark streaks beneath her eyes, giving her a raccoon look. The lashes that had once framed her eyes were now clumped together, remnants of her earlier efforts to look put-together. Her hair hung in damp strands, a tangled mess that framed her face, with tiny dry bits jutting out. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the smudged mascara. She was able to salvage most of her makeup. Her hair seemed to be a lost cause, so she gathered it into a messy bun, securing it with a hair clip that clashed against the damp strands. 

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, it was at 7:50 when the first set of students started arriving. The classroom door swung open, and a wave of laughter spilled in, a mixture of chatter and the rustle of bags being dropped on desks. She looked up from her computer, where the flickering screen illuminated her face in the dim light, and glanced around at the familiar faces. As the students settled, she forced herself to refocus on the book lying open in front of her, Lord of the Flies. She couldn't help but feel the weight of it, much like the way it felt to drag herself through the last few chapters. However, she had read the book, taken detailed notes, and felt ready when the teacher initiated the discussion. English class dragged on, the minutes stretching like taffy as Nora raised her hand just enough times for the teacher to scribble pretty little notes on her efforts. Around her, some peers were vividly discussing the themes and messages of Lord of the Flies, their voices rising and falling with excitement. Yet, Nora couldn't help but think it was a waste of time. The night before, she had delved into research on the book, and every source seemed to agree with the other—her peer's insights felt more tedious than profound.

She opened up Sephora's website.  After the wet morning she had endured, she felt she deserved a little something nice for herself. She had worked so hard at her job this month, after all. As she browsed, she remembered that her foundation was running low, and to her delight, it was on sale. It would be silly not to buy it. With just three items in her basket, she was surprised to see the total well over what she intended to spend. Her gaze drifted out the window, taking in the dreary landscape. The sky hung low, a heavy blanket of slate grey, and rain drizzled in a steady rhythm, pooling in puddles that mirrored the sombre clouds above. Bare trees stood like skeletal fingers against the horizon, their branches swaying in the cold wind. She sighed, feeling the weight of her decision, and with a resigned click, pressed "Complete Purchase."