The Boy At The Docks

1) Morning Rush

More than often, my mornings consist of the same excruciating long routine. Thus routine consists of the following activities: waking up to the yellow and orange Ombre sunrise, the maid rushes in with my breakfast that could probably feed a family of five, she then rushes out just as fast but swiftly returns with a freshly ironed outfit for me to wear, I finish breakfast and change into the clothes given to me, my butler then arrives to inform me that I will be taking piano lessons later that evening and takes his leave with the maid at his heal as if she was a lap dog in need of desperate attention. From the very moment my door shuts, I rush to the balcony and sit on the ledge as I watch the remaining slither of the sunset; seeing such colours daily bring somewhat joy to the gloomy colours that will follow. 

Pounding down the wooden stairs from my room, the sound of my mother's shrieking voice called out to me to stop sounding as if I was in a rush at such an early hour of the morning. "Seriously darling, I question why you always sound as if you're in a rush to get out of the house coming down those blaming stairs," she stated as she looked up from buttering a croissant at the dinner table. My mother was quite attractive for someone of her age, she still had her long wavy hair (parted to the side), her red dress which had puffy short sleeves plus the fact there was zero wrinkles to be seen on her perfect complexion. 

"Well I've got plans to meet the boys today and I don't plan on being late," I explained as I was slowly edging my way towards the door. "You should be a little easier on him, Racheal," the deep voice came from a 6,4-foot man stood in the door frame that was opposite me. The man is my father and to be perfectly honest, I adored him. My father is a well known business man here in Dover and it clearly shows by our large house and the fact we literally have people to do chores we are clearly capable of doing. He has slightly lighter coloured hair than my mother and has is combed back, he often wears suits (the same as I) but when he wears them you can see his larger frame which could be quite intimidating to many others who try to face him. "Gosh fine, I'll let you off the hook this time young man but if you do it again, your father is getting the blame," my mother sighed deeply before getting up from her seat and placing a quick sign of affection on my father's left cheek. 

"Understood and I'll be leaving now so I'll catch up with you later, bye!" I spoke quickly before going into the corridor and quickly looking myself up and down in the mirror. More like mother, I had dark hair and parted it to the side, but my outfit was much like my fathers with a black suit but minus the tie because they're only used for special occasion and I wouldn't say meeting the boys was one of them. Turning the door knob, I departed from my house and left the street in a hurry to make it on time.