A Day in The Life

Just More Of The Same

Oh, how things had wound up becoming so much more complicated.

For starters, Alex and Isabella had not wound up committing yet another federal crime by stealing some random pedestrian's car. Instead, they were trying to avoid committing crimes altogether to stay under the police's radar. This had both benefits and drawbacks; the biggest benefit was that the nationwide manhunt for both girls was beginning to die down ever so slightly. The biggest drawback, on the other hand, was things becoming quite rough after that.

Ten hours after the arrest warrant had been issued, Alex and Isabella had struck up a fast pace. Neither one of them spoke; they didn't have to, now. Keeping the pace, getting to the bar Alex remembered- that was all that mattered. Everything else was just background noise.

Alex peered around a street corner, a lock of hair running diagonally across her face with the wind's bitter bite. Trying to concentrate, she presses herself closer to the wall, as if it would make her invisible, the silver links of her bracelet pressing into her skin. Five feet in front of her, the patrolling policeman turns left; the second their back is turned, she darted straight across the mostly abandoned road, tied in a messy plait. On the edge of a relatively clean alleyway is an old Dumpster, and Alex pulls up its lid before hopping inside.

"Hey, I'm back," Alex whispered into the dark abyss, holding her breath for a count of five. A soft click followed by Isabella's face coming into view.

"Look who it is," the girl replied with a quiet laugh. "Anything new, or do I have to stay holed up here for another eternity while you go on a reconnaissance mission?"

Calling Alex's brief attempts to steal food and money "reconnaissance missions" was stretching it, but both of them would rather starve to death than admit it to the other, or at least jump into the middle of a crowded road.

 And so, Isabella said nothing as the other girl tossed her a slightly bruised green apple. Isabella barely managed to catch it with her fingers. She turned it over slowly, leaving crescent marks in the smooth green surface.

"It's settled down," Alex replied, her eyes sparkling in the dark. "But we can't go, not yet."

Isabella felt annoyance briefly twinge through her. Days' worth of running, of hiding in this stinky Dumpster- not that it stunk so much anymore, but there was a distinct smell of old sneakers and bananas- all to be shoved aside like some trash.

But at the same time, it feels like Alex is trying to protect her. And so, Isabella swallowed the bile in her throat, not quite used to seeing her dark red hair from another person's perspective. Slowly, her hand reached to touch Alex's hair.

With the speed of a demon, Alex's nails were wrapped around her wrist. Alex's fingernails- her nails- are caked with dirt, she noticed now.

So why did that not bother her?

Isabella pulled her wrist away from Alex and leaned against the wall, hair escaping her messy ponytail. "When I was twelve, I got a stuffed unicorn." the girl said, her voice echoing like a banshee in the cramped space.

Alex snorted but said nothing. Isabella exhaled, but she kept speaking.

"I got it from my father after he returned from Boston; don't look so surprised, I know my accent is recognizable even now. I hadn't seen him since I was seven, at the height of my unicorn phase. From my seventh birthday until my twelfth, he was in Boston for work, and I didn't see him even once until he surprised me at my party. Even though we hadn't seen each other in years, in his imagination, I was still that seven-year-old girl who had unicorns all over her room, who had unicorn temporary tattoos and unicorn pillows. So guess what he brought with him?"