The Way Home

Nine In the afternoon

Snow

Into a place where thoughts can bloom
Into a room where it's nine in the afternoon
And we know that it could be
And we know that it should
And you know that you feel it too
'Cause it's nine in the afternoon 

-Panic at the disco; Nine in the afternoon

The days pass like autumn winds. The feel is strange and orange. I like how time slips along like sand slipping down your hands. How the windows are blur on a rainy day. The vintage music that my mom played early mornings dissolved into my head. I lightly pick my phone still groggy. Check the time and push the covers to the side. I walk stepping on my last night's coat fallen down on the wooden floor. I run my hands through my already ruined tangled hair. I try and track down what I was dreaming but I fail effortlessly. I look at my reflection. Pale face, smudged mascara to the right, pressed lips and still squinting eyes trying to adjust my eyes to the bright light. The warm water runs as I push the tap open. I remind myself how fell asleep last night. Crying till my eyes hurt, summertime sadness filling into my ears making want to cry more. I pull on a white collared shirt pushing my thoughts away. Giving my day a hopeful positive start. I fix the belt on my dark winter stripped pencil skirt. I comb my hair and for the first time that day I smile to myself. My mom waits for me in the kitchen singing along to Frank Sinatra

Something in your eyes was so inviting
Something in you smile was so exciting 

-Frank Sinatra; Strangers in the night

She glides along as the song plays plate in hand and the jar of jam along. She doesn't see me until Frank Sinatra stops singing and peaceful instruments follow.

"Early it is then today." She says bluntly, no interest in her voice whatsoever. She hated that I worked as receptionist all day long in a law firm. She found it rather annoying to answer phone calls.

"Yes." I say as if I was talking to myself. I eat breakfast silence one that experience everyday. After my last bite of bread and jam I walk to the sink and as I think of leaving with my bag  and I look at my mom to say goodbye. Like it was all planned in my head.

"Snow." My mom says facing me her eyes teary. I understood that expression in no time. I leave the plate absentmindedly beside the sink and hug her.

I slowly let myself say "He's gone and he is not coming back." I regret it as soon as I do.

It stays in my head till I reach the subway. The P.A system says something  which I ignore within the feet shuffling. I put on my earphones and search through my playlist. I scroll down and decide on Uma Thurman. The song continues to play when I turn my head as I see a boy with brunette hair and brown eyes similar to mine. He felt so familiar. He now looks at me and smiles. I smile and look away. The familiarity felt so obvious that it gnawed in my insides. I look away resisting my urge to not look at him. 'Don't' I fought with myself. The lady on the P.A system speaks again this time I listen and shoulder my bag higher and walk out of the subway looking up at the autumn trees lining up to the law firm board. Thompson Blanc bold standing out in the cold weather I clutch my sweater pulling it closer. Then walk into the front desk where Robin sits happy seeing me.

"There you are. Early I suppose?" She says stretching to pick her bag from down below the desk.

"Doing you a favor." I set my bag on the now empty desk.

"Mike told me to inform you about the meeting this evening and most unfortunately I'm gonna take it from there, I meant after the meeting." She says moving slowly away from the desk leaving me in pure annoyance of not leaving the desk, guarding it always.

"I loathe him" Robin and I chant as she sits on her usual desk across and I sit on the one she sat on before. I put my bag down lightly and remove my sweater and set to the work that was already waiting for me to put my hands on. I start looking through the pile of paper and setting them right as the common phone rings disturbing my work pattern. I walk to it and gently pick it.

"Thompson Blanc law firm" My voice gentle not rude as it always is supposed to be.

"This is the secretary speaking I suppose.  Alex Grant speaking  behalf of my father I'd actually want you to fix an appointment with Mr. Mike Thompson." The male voice rings into my ear. Quite uncertain of what he himself is doing. He doesn't answer business calls he's clearly poor at it I think to myself. Then quickly regret it as I judged him straightaway. I trust my voice to not give away my judgement.

"No. I'm Snow Dexter the receptionist. I will most certainly transfer this to the secretary. Good day sir." As I click on 7 transferring the call to the secretary, Rachel. I get back to my work as my head chimes to the song that plays as a person enters to the block both Robin and me look up.

All you sinners stand up, sing hallelujah (hallelujah!)
Show praise with your body
Stand up, sing hallelujah (hallelujah!)
And if you can't stop shaking, lean back
Let it move right through ya (hallelujah!)

-Panic at the disco; Hallelujah.

My heart fills with unknown pleasure and when I look up I don't think I want to remember it the way I would later. The subway guy.