My mistake (l.t.)

4.

My alarm shook me out of my thoughts and zombie-like walked to my closet. I pulled out a gray hoodie and dark jeans. I then pulled out a purple cami with grey polka-dots to underneath my hoodie if it got warm outside.

That's one things I hate about Oregon the weather is so fucking fickle all time.

Still in my pajamas I dragged my feet to my bathroom and set my clothes on the counter. I then stripped off my pjs and hopped in the shower. The warm water running down my back soothed me as I continued to stand in the steaming relief.

I reached for the shampoo and tug it's contents into the scalp of my dark brown hair. I reached down to grab the rest of my hair laying by my shoulders and pulled all of my hair into a bubbly bun. I then washed my body and shaved my legs trying to take as much time as possible so wouldn't have to worry about the horrors of today.

I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around me. I quickly changed into my clothes and brushed my hair. I didn't really want to take the time and blow dry and untangle my hair so I put my hair up in a bun Katlynne showed me to do.

As I walked in to the kitchen I found it empty. Katlynne must of already headed to work.

I grabbed a apple and bagel and scarfed them down as quickly as I possibly could.

Pulling my bag and phone off the coat rack we never use I opened the door and readied myself for the breeze to hit me in the face. Sure enough it did.

Right as I turned the key to lock the door I felt multiple raindrops on my cheek.

Great I thought. Real fucking great.

By the time I turned the corner near my work, it was pouring.

I stuffed my notebook inside my hoodie and did my best to protect my purse. Finally a sign reading Portland Art Gallery came into my view and I rushed as fast I could to make it to my dry haven.

Once inside my normal routine was back. Mozzie was acting creepy and weird as usual and Molly was just as fucking annoying.

I set my stuff down and pulled out a fresh canvas. Just as I was about to began my phone buzzed.

One new text message from Katlynnexo it read.

The message gave the destination and time for the photo shoot and said thank you at least a thousand times.

Ugh I thought and set my alarm for the time she gave me then turned towards my canvas once again.

I drew a camera with jail bars where the lens usually were. Then I drew a girl with a dead expression on her face inside if the bars.

It was meant to represent the bondage the media gives us. I respect Katlynnes's work but people working so hard to be perfect I find ridiculous.

I'm not one to judge though, when I was younger I struggled with bulimia and anorexia. Katlynne was actually the one to help me get better.

I shiver as I draw three girls around the camera, their full back exposed, bones popping out of their spine and ankle weights(like the ones used for prisoners) around their feet.

I must have lost track of time because soon the annoying blare of my alarm interrupted my thoughts. I put a sheer paint on the canvas to protect the piece I had just made and packed up my stuff.

One thing I love about this job is that I can make my own hours. So when I wanna start I can an when I wanna leave I can. Even though I prefer to work on schedule,events like this no schedules work in my favour.

I headed out the doors of my studio and worked my way towards Katlynne's. I looked up to find no sign of rain or no proof there had been rain. So fucking fickle I thought once more but didn't dare to complain outside my thoughts in fear that I might jinx the nice weather.