She shucked off her coat and let it hit the floor before she grabbed it and hung it on the chair. The woman shuffled across the floor until she reached the kitchen. She lit the stove and placed the kettle over the hob. The slight bubbling filled the quiet house and she lent against the counter, mug in hand and a glazed look across her face. The dull thump of the neighbors next door became in sync with the pounding of her head. Her breathing, slightly irregular due to the tightness of her chest, could scarcely be heard. She felt sick. But in a sort of, motion sickness way, even though she hadn't been in a vehicle for quite a few weeks. Her fingers fumbled to switch off the kettle that had began to whistle violently. Marked by the cheap plastic bags she'd held her shopping in, her fingers ached and felt raw as she held the now hot mug. The steam rose quickly into the air by her face, causing strands of loose hair to curl.
The final light of Autumn shone through the small house, and the crisp cold of the dawning dark began to silently seep into her home. Her abandoned coat fluttered slightly as another wisp of winter air snuck through her door.
The rain pattered heavily against the plastic of the window. Grey clouds coated the pale sky. Small tears in the cloud cover revealed patches of turquoise. Hues of red highlighted the dark clouds, seeping seamlessly into the sky until it was so faded it couldn't be seen.
Her eyes swept over the bare shelves of her fridge. Scattered about were basic essentials.
YOU ARE READING
The Notoriously Lacidasical Working Class
Fanfic"We can't publish this." ************************************* "You'll have to find somewhere else." ************************************* He shuffled off, dejected and feeling lower than he had in many a month. (Italics are for the book that is bei...
