Ripped At Every Edge (Lynn Gunn)

Routine

Brinley (3rd Person)

Her lips curled around the cigarette as she approached the front door of her apartment. She exhaled; letting go of any tension she was feeling in a cloud of smoke. She was enveloped in nicotine, ears filled with melodies and eyes longing for slumber. The weight of the long work day made her feel pinned to the ground. She tugged her house key from the chain on her neck, leaning down and unlocking the front door. As she entered the small apartment she was met with the familiar smell of incense and leftover pizza. She set her longboard near the door, shutting it and locking it. She didn't have the energy to make food, even though it was approaching midnight and she hadn't eaten since at least 11 am. So instead she put the butt of her cigarette in the ashtray on the kitchen countertop. She secured her long white blonde hair in a loose bun at the top of her head, digging through the refrigerator for something that hadn't expired. She came across some three day old chinese food that was satisfying enough. And with a small Netflix marathon and some questionable lo mein, she ended her night.

She dreamt of the same thing that she dreamt of every night. She dreamed of a girl sprinting joyfully through the forest, pecking her on the lips. She dreamt of the love in her eyes, the ink on her arms, the smile on her lips. The dream never ceased to make her long for romance, though she rejected her friend's attempts at setting her up. She wanted to do something on her own. She always did everything on her own. But the one thing that she couldn't do on her own was keep her sanity. She relied on blue cigarettes, whiskey, the occasional joint from the local stoner, and a shit ton of ice cream. But the thing that she relied most on was the buzz of the tattoo gun in her hand, the way that the vibrations spread through her body, calming her nerves. Her anxiety over the years had caused her hands to shake violently when she didn't have either a pen or tattoo gun in them. So she kept herself occupied. She always was always occupied with something.

She awoke the next morning to her alarm screeching in her ear. She was actually excited to get up, leaving the safety of her duvet only minutes after her alarm went off. She did her morning routine of washing her face, brushing her teeth, doing her makeup, getting dressed, (the boring stuff) before walking in to the kitchen for some breakfast. She decided that she would make a cup of coffee rather than going straight for the nicotine as she usually did. She felt a spring in her step, a lightness in the air, a sparkle in the sunlight, today might be good. She ditched her normal route to work, instead skating down a longer path through a residential neighborhood and some smaller side streets. She breathed in the questionably fresh California air even stopping to pluck a small white rose from a bush, tucking it behind her ear. She felt the positive vibes floating through the air and she was breathing them in with a smile. As she made opened up shop for the day and read through the appointment book she knew why she was excited.

AUTHORS NOTE: Alrighty, I feel kinda bad for having this move slowly. I would love some feedback because I feel like the story is pretty shitty at the moment. But let me know by voting and commenting! There should be another part up by tonight if writer's block doesn't get in the way. So yeah, okay.