1: The Present At Her Door.

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Amelia turned her head to the other side, her trimmed eyebrows pulling towards each other in an obvious disgruntled frown. She didn't want the soft violin music to stop but it was fading away no matter how much she willed it to stay. The birds—about three judging from the sounds— were chirping quite jovially outside her bedroom window, happy to be awake. However, Amelia wasn't. She didn't want to wake up yet. 

Just a little more, she begged the barely audible violin music, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought her body from entering into full consciousness. The violin music faded into silence, all Amelia could hear was the chirping birds which appeared to have received a fourth member. With the way the chirps sounded with a high pitch at one instant and a sharp crisp response at another, one would think those birds were having a light-hearted conversation.

Amusing as they sounded, Amelia hated that they had replaced the violin music and were making her efforts to return to sleep futile. 

After I'm done unpacking, I'm going to cut down that goddamn tree! Amelia hissed internally, giving up on returning to dreamland. Just as she opened her eyes, something buzzed underneath her back causing her to jerk away and off the bed in a very inelegant fashion with her blanket trailing after her.

It buzzed again and upon seeing what the object was, a half-sigh half-groan escaped from her lips as she sat on the bed and picked up her vibrating phone, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she swiped her thumb toward the green icon.

"Hey, girl." She yawned again.

"Hey geeee–uuuuurl!" A drug-like thrilled shriek burst through the speakers of her phone. Amelia winced, her eyes squeezing shut, her shoulders jerked upward and her mouth curved upwards in slight distaste.

"Girl! What drug are you on?" Amelia asked her best friend, smoothing stray hairs on her cornrow to the back with her palm as she released another yawn.

"I'm on the help-Amelia-unpack-in-her new-house drug and lawwwwd! It's so good." Chantal replied with an equally excited chuckle. She appeared to be more excited about helping Amelia unpack in her new house than Amelia, herself, was.

Amelia rolled her eyes playfully but contracted Chantal's chuckle. She stood up from the disarranged bed and slipped her legs into her fuzzy slip-ons. "I don't know where you get your morning energy from, you ever groggy?"

"I guess it comes with my job, I don't know." Chantal sounded like she had added a shrug as she replied Amelia. "The world of gossip got me on my toes most of the time so I guess it's a habit to keep this mood on now."

Chantal worked at The Issue, both as an article writer and as a presenter for their show titled "What's The Issue?" The Issue started as a magazine and soon expanded into a TV show of their own.  Amelia thought it suited her perfectly, that she was made for the job and the job for her. Chantal used to run their High School journalism and was nicknamed Miss Information. She had a knack for getting the latest juiciest news quickly and could make anything as boring as watching paint dry as thrilling as going down a giant water slide.  

Leaving her bed messy, with the covers splayed over the edge of the bed, Amelia walked out of her bedroom towards the kitchen, the coffee maker already working in her mind.

"Is that a car honk I hear?" Amelia asked, frowning at Chantal through the phone.

"Yep! I'm stuck in traffic." Chantal replied. Why? Of all days." She bemoaned.

"You're on the road already!" Amelia's cat-like eyes expanded as she took her phone away from her ear to glance at the time for a moment.

7:03, she read in her mind. How on earth is Chantal this energetic on a Sunday?

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