𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗜 || 𝙟𝙞𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚

Chapter One

Twilight melted away, majestic sunrise, and assorted hues of red and orange; glow seepingly over the horizon as if the light itself was being poured from a molten sun. Powerful rays flood over the landscape lighting every blade of grass, shining from each leaf.

The spring washed in like the tide, advancing confidently with warmth and white sunshine one day and retreating the next. On some days the new vibrant hues of the pansies and daffodils were bathed in tepid air that encouraged them gently, on others the wintry wind gusted fiercely - demanding a return to the bitterness of the months before. I was somewhat intrigued to the cycle of spring and winter. A rose can blossom within spring's waves of fidelity and fragility, yet the rise of winter freezes over the stem, and the petals turn dull. The once, vibrant rose is nothing but wasted life.

Rosé:

As I rouse from a heavy slumber, I am first aware of the coolness of the air and it's loamy fragrance. It must be another wintry day, I suppose. The ground is coarse and cold, as if I were on a bed of earth and rocks. My clothing feels as damp as a faded rose in the dew of the dawn. I question my subconcious, perhaps I am still dreaming as I sit up to take in the shafts of light that burst through the fractured shards of the window above.

Once the carousel of unusual ideas passes, I blink, close my eyes, and blink again. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window and blind me. Roughly, I rub my knuckles onto my eyes, hoping that by doing so, I can somehow caress away my tiredness. I stretch my arms above my head, my jaw opening widely as I yawn and turn my head towards the clock on my chest of drawers.

9:45...

"Gosh...I'm going to be late!"

Seems as though, time had begun to dissolve into itself, as shapeless as the rain. I knew that I should have spent the final hour sleeping rather than remaining awake to practise. Why do you have to be so stupid, Rose? I repetedly questioned in my head whilst in the grip of panic. I suddenly become entirely awake, faster than a cat in ice-water, every ending nerve being electrified by panic that urged me to spring from my source of comfort into the cold, dimly lit bathroom. I pull my hair down to my left side, turning on cold water from the sink which began to flow into my hands. Cold water is the most efficient thief of heat I know, yet I soak my face regretfully, before I lunged for my toothbrush.

Why does everything have to take so much time?

Once the bristles of the toothbrush are coated in thick, substance, I aggressively begin to scrub the brush against my teeth, a few times on either side of my mouth, and for a short moment on my front teeth. Even after becoming an adult, I will grin widely into the mirror like an infant, brushing my front teeth. Once I feel as though I have done enough brushing, I rinse out my gums with cold, running water and wipe away excess toothpaste in the corners of my lips.

I rush back towards my bedroom, and regretfully look towards the clock...

...9:53

No time for breakfast, no time to choose an outfit, no time to brush my hair, perhaps if I leave now, I can make it a few seconds late?

I slip on my shoes, grab my white sweater and lunge towards the door.

"I haven't warmed up."

I am already out of breath when I'm walking, talking or even thinking of doing either. With every movement there's an exaggerated huff, like air escaping from a deflating balloon. Every step feels like walking in quick sand as I rush towards the elevator, nudging the button more than necessary as I hum a scale out loud to warm my vocals for rehersals.