Seven Days

Sunday

The two cats, one orange and one gray, purred and jostled for pets, waking her up. They were hungry, so she had to get out of bed, even on the weekends, to feed them.

She was wearing fuzzy socks, so her feet were still warm when she slipped them out of the covers and onto the floor, padding across the cold tile to the kitchen, where she took the cat food out of the cupboard and poured it into two bowls.

The sun had just come up over the landscape, and she stopped to admire it. She had to admit it was pretty, even if it had cost her weekend sleep-in time to see it.

As per usual, she did a few gentle morning stretches before getting dressed. She wasn't generally a very yoga-and-vegetables kind of person, this being mostly her only pastime that a health guru might approve of, but she only did it because her muscles got sore easily, and without stretching it would be stiff misery.

She hummed herself a song, what one she wasn't sure, as she set about making a little bowl of cereal. Not eating in the morning always made her nauseous, so she made sure to put a little food in her before doing anything. She ate the cereal with her cats at the kitchen counter, having to clear off a space from all the empty bowls and coffee mugs. No matter how many dishes she did, there was always more, it seemed.

Her old white laptop, covered in stickers and marker doodles, was on the kitchen table, and after getting dressed she grabbed it and stuck it in her book bag. Today was writing day, and she knew exactly where she'd go to do it.

Her old-timey looking yellow bike was locked up outside, and she flipped the combination open before hopping on and pedaling off down the street, to where her favorite coffee shop was. She had gotten the yellow bike from her aunt - an aunt who she'd grown up with and who'd stayed with her for years after that.

She couldn't ride the yellow bike without thinking of her.

The bike was parked and locked again before going into the shop. She picked a table near the wall, where sunlight wouldn't glare on her laptop screen, but she had a good view of the whole place. She took out her laptop and was just about to open it when she realized she had no idea what she was about to write.

So she did what she always did when she was fresh out of ideas.

She sat back and watched.

At the counter, two people were waiting for their order. One was a girl, with messy hair and a black notebook peeking out of her book bag. She was twirling a pencil in her hand as she surveyed the shop.

The boy with her was wearing an old denim jacket and looking through something - Polaroid photos, it looked like - and every once in a while bursting into laughter and showing something to the girl, who would laugh as well. Soon, a boy in a pastel jacket, for some reason wearing wilted dandelions in his hair, handed them a little cup of something. The messy-haired girl and the dandelion boy exchanged greetings and hugs, and the dandelion boy was introduced to the denim boy.

On another side of the shop, a girl sat alone. She was wearing a brightly colored pink-and-green shirt that almost hurt the eyes, something you wouldn't think anyone could look good in, but she pulled it off. She had headphones in her ears and was tapping her feet and nodding her head to the music while sipping some kind of soda.

And at the table next to her, a girl was sitting alone. She was wearing a leather backpack and had a book out on the table, and looked anxious or something.

The door swung open, and a boy entered - as "bad boy" as you could get, except he looked nervous. Something you didn't see in bad boys a lot.

She watched as the girl with the books and the boy looked and saw each other. The girl quickly turned to her book again, but the boy took a deep breath and walked up to her, handing her a single potted succulent.

With a smile, she opened her laptop, turning her attention away from the people around her, and started to write.