Yours, Eternally(2015 Revision)

Chapter One

 Part I: December

I hit the snooze button hoping to get an extra ten minutes of sleep, but unfortunately, it was an unusually bright Saturday morning in the middle of a usually gray, dismal December. Sunlight crept into my window through the drawn blinds at full force, seeping its way under the pillow that I hid my face under.

“Damn it.” I muttered as I tossed the pillow to the opposite end of the bed and wiped the sleep from my eyes. I untangled myself from the web of blankets cocooned around my body, planted my feet on the floor and rose from the bed.

I dragged my socked feet toward my personal bathroom like a zombie, and stepped up to the mirror over the sink to examine the mess the night’s sleep left me in. My long coppery hair was disheveled in an up-do of tangles. At a quick glance of my face, I noticed I had bags under my emerald eyes. I ran the tap and splashed cold water onto my face and again peered into the mirror, taking a more in-depth look at myself, noticing my cheeks were also slightly puffy. It was definitely one of those nights. I looked like hell, but it was nothing a deep condition and make-up couldn't fix.

Deciding against jumping back into bed, I settled into the bathroom and ran the shower to relieve myself of this early morning funk. While waiting for the water to warm up, I brushed my teeth and tried and get a comb through the nest on top of my head. Succeeding, I slipped out of my shorts and tee-shirt and stepped into the shower just as the steam from filled the bathroom. I massaged shampoo, then conditioner into my hair and washed up. Within twenty minutes, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around me and twisted another around my dripping hair before tossing the clothes I slept in into the hamper. With my hand, I swiped away the steam that fogged up the mirror and searched through my make-up bag for some foundation and mascara. After applying both, I nodded at my reflection in approval and made my way back into my bedroom and dressed of a pair of jeans, my favorite white fleece hoodie and a tank-top underneath. I pulled my white Adidas sneakers out from my closet and slid my feet into them.

With a little under an hour behind me since I crawled out of bed, it was time to get moving. I trotted down the stairs to the first floor of my townhouse to the kitchen to brew my ritual morning coffee. I reached up over the dishwasher and pulled open the cabinet door and grabbed the coffee filters. They slipped from my hand just as I pulled one out for coffee maker. They floated in slow-motion, swaying from right to left, let to right, in the air, ultimately landing noiselessly at my feet on the linoleum floor. “Wonderful. One of those nights is turning into one of those days,” I said out loud to myself.

I collected the filters from the floor, tossing them into the garbage and continued to make my liquid breakfast. As it brewed, I sorted through two day's worth of mail splayed out on the kitchen table. Mostly ads. I settled into a copy of the latest T.A.P.S magazine I subscribed to, flipping through one of the many articles about the unknown. One caught my eyed and I skimmed through it. As I became absorbed in my reading, I was disrupted by the scent of burning coffee. I hopped up from my chair and plopped the magazine onto the counter top next to the coffee maker and switched it's button off. With a displeased scowl, I emptied the pot into the sink, not thrilled with the idea of drinking the burnt sludge.