Clay felt helpless, absolutely helpless. He didn't know what he did wrong. Was he too clingy? Too distant? What had he done to mess everything up? Clay's bright eyes admired the lovely scene in front of him. Light streamed into the room like soft ribbons of pale yellow. Particles of dust shimmer through the air casting a soft glow throughout the enclosed space. Each object hit by the illuminating ribbons are basked in the pale shades of comforting yellow. Sweet words travel through the air reaching Clay's sun-splattered ears. The words roll into Clay's mind like smooth velvet fabric off of a sewing machine. Soft, harmonious beats permeate the calm atmosphere offering soft reprise from the ongoing silence outside. Clay is seated near a window. Frost laces across the illusion of a see through pale blue window. Clay's sweater paw remains trapped under his soft jaw, brushing against his softly bulging Adam's Apple. His Adam's Apple bobs as he attempts to swallow the lump of tears stuck in his throat. The lump in his throat stays though, and the glassed over eyes continue to irritate his already growing sadness. Clay was so close to another break down and didn't think he would be able to piece himself together this time. Clay knew he probably looked like a mess and to be fair he was right. His blue eyes were dim and bloodshot, a ring of pale rouge was dusted around his dimmed blue eyes. His nose was a startling shade of red and every few moments a soft quiet sniffle could be heard from his lonely circular table of only one occupant. His pale blonde hair is messy, messier than it should be. Different strands fall in different places accidentally causing a messy all over the place hairdo. Clay tries to fix his hair, but gives up after the sixteenth try. A dejected sigh leaves his chapped and cracking lips. Every movement he makes seems to have lost its purpose. Clay knew that he would get over this eventually, but right now in this moment he felt as if his whole world was being torn down right in front of his pleading bright blue eyes. Every breath he took seemed to be borrowed, someone else's life being wasted on his pathetic existence. It made him sick to think that he was stealing precious moments from another human being, yet he kept on breathing. He couldn't bear to stop, there were so many things he wanted to do before his inevitable end came. He hoped to get to age 80 before pushing up daisies, but he would be fine to die at any time even now. Although this day seems to be a shitty moment to live, at least Clay could say that he's got this experience of heartbreak under his belt. Clay sat there alone and for a moment seemed to be muted out from the world. Everything was shut off. The varying shades of browns seemed distant from him. The smell of brewed coffee seemed faint, almost non-existent. Clay himself seemed to have been reduced to varying shades of black. Then the world morphed back into it's normal look and Clay released a breath shakily not understanding what he had just witnessed. Slowly his hand dipped into his pocket retrieving a small item which he popped into his mouth. Clay finally began to calm, letting a pale pink bubble slip past his chapped lips.
Loralie was tired of staying in this shitty motel room. God, it felt like she was suffocating in the grime that coated the room like a second skin. Loralie couldn't take it anymore, she was going insane. Loralie turns to her black duffle bag. Rifling through it she pulls out a black Nirvana tee along with a pair of black jeans with holes littering through them. Putting them on Loralie mutters the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit, each lyric gluing pieces of her sanity back together. Slipping on a pair of leather boots, Loralie quickly pulls her black leather jacket onto her body. Loralie turns to the bathroom and steps in, her breath hitches before returning to normal. Flies hover over the toilet. On the toilet sits a pile of white chalky powder, a razor occupying the space next to it. Loralie turns away from it, disgusted. Grabbing her bag of bathroom supplies she pulls out the container holding her toothbrush. Pulling her toothbrush out she piles on a layer of toothpaste. Putting the teeth-cleaning saviors under the steaming hot running water Loralie proceeds to shove the minty toothbrush into her mouth. Loralie scrubs her teeth hard, but even after blood began to appear her teeth still felt filthy. Taking another three minutes to brush, Loralie finally felt satisfied. Although she wouldn't say it out loud she felt a little bit lighter after that scrubbing. Looking into the mirror Loralie wipes the red lipstick off of her lips, replacing it with a soft lavender color. The choker remained at the base of her throat. Loralie managed a watery smile before heading out of the bathroom and motel room into the bright wintery world outside.
Loralie was currently entering in a warm cafe filled with warm tones of brown basking her in surreal comfort. Moving across to the counter she looked at the menu. Finally deciding on what she wanted she turned to the relaxed employee behind the counter.
"What would you like ma'am," a calm voice asked.
Loralie flashed at a quick smile at the employee. Loralie felt warm after being called ma'am. After all these years she was finally being recognized for who she really was. "I would like a black coffee with a cherry tart."
The employee nodded while moving swiftly to the coffee machine. Grabbing one of the white mugs she also pulls down a cashmere beige napkin. Pouring coffee into the mug the employee puts it on to the counter and lowers herself down into the display and grabs the cherry tart placing it on the cashmere napkin. Placing both in front of Loralie she happily says,"$6.90, please." Loralie brings out a ten dollar bill. The cashier removes three dollars and ten cents from the register and gently places it into Loralie's hand. Loralie glances at the employee's name tag and reads 'Abby'. Smiling Loralie places the three dollars and ten cents into the tip jar. Abby's eyes brighten with gratitude while her lips curl into a dreamy smile. Loralie looks for a place to sit when she notices a boy with blonde hair, converse, and a black jacket draped on his chair. Loralie does a double take and glides over to the boy. As she approaches him she notices the red circles around his eyes and startling red nose. Loralie's brain clicks. He was the figure she had seen crying. Moving towards him she sat down. He seemed to be out of it, a pale pink bubble growing from his mouth. Loralie poked it gently and watched the gum pop. The boy's bright blue eyes brightened then widened as he looked at Loralie. Slowly his mouth moved to form the words,"You burst my bubble."
