Why Don't We imagines

Zach > 7

    > Throwback the catch >

   You hum the beat to your favorite song as you clean the dishes. The light fall breeze is blowing in from the open window and hitting your back while you scrub the dish in front of you diligently.

Your hips start swaying to their one accord; however, it's a subconscious action. You let out a little knowing giggle as you set down the dish into the clean rack. You turn, your back to the sink and your hands braced in the counter, towards your empty kitchen. Silence was all you could hear; it's the perfect time.

You slide on one foot away from the sink, and start to belt out the lyrics. You sway, jump, twist, and shake; not a care in the world if somebody walks in or if you are being loud. Every evening - at 7:23 - it was your time. Sometimes you spent it reading, sometimes it was cleaning, but tonight- tonight it was dancing around the kitchen holding a broom and singing your favorite song into it.

You twirl around to face the arch that leads into the kitchen and pause. Your four-year-old daughter stared fixated. Her light brown ringlets were a jumbled mess as she held her teddy down by her side.

" Mommy? What are you doing?" She mumbles and rubs an eye.

You chuckle, set the broom down, and mosy towards your daughter like nothing ever happened. You kneel to her height.

" Just cleaning baby. Are you ready for bed? You cleaned up alright?" You check over her.

" Yeah. I'm sleepy." She yawns.

You hoist her onto your hip; trekking down the lengthy hallway, you take a sharp turn to the door on the right. The room is all vibrant green, pink, and purple. You walk over to the fluffy queen sized bed and lay your daughter down.

" How about a story?" You ask her softly.

" Yeah! My favorite one!" She says eagerly.

You sit down in the rocking chair next to her bed hat has been passed down the generations in your family. She snuggles into her blankets, looking at you expectantly.

You begin with a smile, loving when your daughters eyes lit up with happiness.

>>>>>>

It's the summer of 1987. The heat in New York City sweltered and the only thing a person could do was strip layers of clothing.

You, your'e eighteen and have your whole life in front of you. You came to New York City ( from a small town in Pennsylvania ) to live your life; so far, life was great. This is how you found yourself wearing a neon pink fishnet shirt with a purple bra underneath, black shorts, fishnets and a pair of neon green converse; at a concert in Central Park for all the hot artists. Bon Jovi was currently killing the stage.

You bounce and sway to the beat ; singing along and waving your arms for Jovi to notice you. People all around you do the same thing with more fervor, creating a beast that roared and moved in sync. You laugh, looking at the people around you. Some are wildly dancing and screaming their heads up, some are quietly swaying, but the ones catching your attention are the one with other people; they are on each other's shoulders, they are laughing and goofing off, they jump in a circle and sing the lyrics.

     You envy them a little. Coming to NYC by yourself, you really don't have any friends; certainly not friends you would go to a concert with. Back in Pennsylvania, you had had a best friend named Cecelia, but a horrible accident happened involving an unknown tunnel. Cecelia would've loved to be here in the Big Apple. It was her dream to come here. It was part of the reason you were here. It was the main reason you picked NYC actually.