Don't Come Back For Me

Housecleaning.

        Stepping into your apartment, you let out a long, loud groan. Your apartment was an absolute mess, the result of endless job hunting taking up any and all free time. You walked into your room and threw down your belongings, setting your phone on the nightstand after turning the ringer up all the way. It was hot, the AC not working too well as you peeled the blue shirt from your body. You ran a hand down one arm, wishing the heat would take a chill pill for today. It hadn't been too hot in the morning, yet it had warmed up significantly on the drive home.

       It was nearing 1pm as you stood in your small living room, staring at the mess. You decided to grab a garbage bag and go around cleaning up all the trash. One thing that you actually enjoyed about your apartment was that you had a window directly above the dumpsters, three floors below you. The height was nice, you didn't have to deal with the smell of hot garbage all summer. As you went around, you realized it was going to take more than one garbage bag.

       "I can't do this without a little music." Once again, your voice was the only sound in the apartment, bouncing off the stained walls. Finally having a job filled you with determination as you though about repainting. You set the garbage bag down near the couch covered in magazines and clothes and moved to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and wireless speaker. You threw the mess from atop the tv stand, knowing you'd have to pick it up later, and set your speaker there. Once your phone connected, you pulled up YouTube, selecting Jaymes Young - Come Back For Me. As soon as the song began, you selected autoplay and went back to work, dancing around to the music.

        "Five. Five damn garbage bags. Man, I gotta get my shit together." It had taken nearly two hours for you to go around and grab every piece of garbage, but your apartment looked much neater. You moved around, throwing shoes in a neat group by the door, digging your couch out from the mountain of neglected clothes (and throwing said clothes through the wash), and stacked your magazines on the end table. Your apartment was actually clean, something it hadn't been since you'd moved in last month. You were thankful for the space, no matter how small it was. In actuality, you had a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and small front room, which was better than what you'd originally expected to get.

       As you threw the last bag out your window, your stomach rumbled loudly, a sign that just one McDonald's hash brown wasn't enough for two days. Running to the kitchen, you opened the now organized fridge, finding you had more to eat that you'd thought. "Huh, neato." You moved around, the counters now free of mess.

       It was 7pm, the sky still slightly lit by the ever-sinking sun. The window leading to the streets below sat above the sink. It was funny, really, that you hadn't realized you could see Rick's home from where you stood. It was only a few blocks down from yours, though the path you took was winding, more out of the way than necessary.

       Moving your music to the kitchen, you stepped out of the room momentarily to pull on a pair of tan shorts. The material stopped just above your knees, allowing a good portion of your body to escape the heat. One thing summer was not, was your favorite season. Especially in this town.

       Content in your shorts, a cool breeze ran across your bare chest as you moved past the open window, grabbing lunch meat and cheese to put a sandwich together. "What the hell, why not two?"

       Once you'd finished, you shut your speaker off and closed down YouTube, moving to the couch. Your desk sat off to the side, cluttered. You had neglected to clean it, but it was fine as is. Your textbooks, notebooks, and laptop were all within reach. Peering towards the tv, you glanced at the cupboard beneath it, one door cracked open. Sighing, you got up and pulled the door open the rest of the way, looking towards the various bottles of whiskey you had gathered under there. You'd never been one to get absolutely shit-faced for no reason, but it was hot out. You figured, better drunk than miserable.

-x-

       It was nearing 9 now as you sat on the couch, mumbling incoherent sentences at the tv. You set the near-empty bottle on the end table, stumbling to the kitchen and putting your plate in the sink. You flinched when it shattered, giggling at the mess before you moved to your room, setting your phone dangerously near the edge of your nightstand but not really caring.

       You peeled your shorts from your body before laying on top of your blankets, your mind a little fuzzy.

       "Oh noes. I-I got... gotta ssssset my-the clock... thing." You reached a hand up, nearly knocking your phone down before grabbing it and bringing it extremely close to your face. You messed up your lock code a few times before getting it right, pressing your thumb firmly against the button this time. Giggling, you went through your alarms and set them all, wondering which one was right.

       As you set your phone back down, you plugged the charger in and laid back, running your hands across your chest.

       The small, raised goosebumps were an excitingly amusing feeling as you ran both palms thoroughly over your sides and torso, your drunk mind drifting to think about your new boss.