I woke to the endless, irritating beeping of my alarm clock and my mother bursting though my bedroom door.
"Big day, darling!" she said, opening my curtains and letting soft, warm sunlight leak through the glass of my window.
I grunted and turned my face away from the light trying to shake me from my sleep.
"Mom," I said, more annoyed and tired than ever. "Just go away. It's no bigger a day than the last seven just like it have been."
She stopped rustling my curtains and walked out of the room. She was hurt. I would apologize later, yet I felt sorry for nothing. After seven times moving, you'd think she'd be okay with a little rude humor.
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I swung my legs over the frame of my bed, stretching and then standing.
My room changed about every six months or so, so I never really got comfortable where I was.
I walked over to my dresser, and opened the top drawer. I didn't have much of a selection, but I pulled out a nice black top with a pink floral pattern on it and threw on high waisted, light-wash jean shorts.
My stomach let a out low grumble, yelling at me to eat. So i trotted downstairs, turned the corner to reach the kitchen, and sat down at the table. Toast with jam, along with a silky scrambled egg waited on a ceramic Ikea plate that laid before me.
I swiveled my neck to see if there were any signs of my offended mother nearby, and there were not.
My gentle fingers, with fingernails bitten down to the beds by yours truly, picked up the fork and stabbed a piece of scrambled egg, bringing the fork to reach my chapped lips, and closing my teeth around the fluffy, luminously colored egg.
It was runny. Just how my mom cooked them.
My mom came into the kitchen and stood by the sink, peering at me through her thick rimmed glasses. She wasn't an un attractive lady; wavy, blonde hair, starting to give way to gray, but not quite. Nice posture, yet she is no taller than 5'3".
She eyed my outfit, and said, "In Maine, everything is going to get a lot colder, a lot quicker." I stood up, finishing my eggs and taking a single bite of toast. I took my dish to the sink, revering around her to reach the spigot.
"I'll cope."
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That day was the last day I spent in my house in Benedict. I must admit, though, Benedict wasn't complete torture. It was nice. Secluded. Quiet. Warm in the summers, cold in the winters. Perks of living in Maryland, I guess.
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After breakfast, I walked up stairs and started packing up the things resting on top of my dresser and the clothes that found a home inside. Cardboard box after cardboard box became loaded to the brim with everything my room used to be.
The moving truck, along with the people inside, were to be in front of my house in an hour, ready to put my furniture in the vast space of the truck.
Dresser, bed frame, mattress, bed side table, stereo, desk, vinyl player, book shelf. One by one, they left my recent living space.
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My mom, dad, sister, and dog all ravaged into our blue Subaru and made ourselves comfortable and familiar with our seating arrangements. I took my generic earbuds from my pocket and shoved one end into my phone jack and the audible parts into my ears. This was going to be a long ride.
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hello everyone!
eliza here!
i feel like this story is going to amount to something fun and interesting and exciting but i mean you never know so i guess we'll see how it goes.
if you haven't already, go read bre and i's main story, "the soul survivors" by eliza wrenn (myself) and breanna ward.
guess that's all for now.
bye!👹💄
YOU ARE READING
far away from here
Fanfiction"where are we moving to this time?" i asked with apparent irritation in my voice. my mother turned to me and said, "it's a beautiful place in maine. it's very relaxed and has a phenomenal school system. you're going to love it," she said with a smil...
