Bound

Chapter One

As I sit in my reading chair, some old wicker thing with a thin, sad excuse for a cushion on the seat, I watch the people moving along the streets of Cape Sonnet. The same people every morning; the middle school kids walking the elementary tots to school, the new moms with strollers that held the newest members, Patty, the head nurse at Sonnet Acre's Retirement Home, walking along the nature path within the gates of the facility with a few of the seniors who reside there, and the various business men in line at the coffee shop, waiting to grab their daily fix of the dark, bitter liquid to drink on their way out of town toward the city for work. It was a routine for them, even for me. Every morning when I wake, I shower, fix myself two eggs and toast, boil water for my tea, serve myself, and wander over to my chair to watch the townspeople from the smallest window in the apartment.

It wasn't often that something came along to derail my morning routine, but when it did, it was typically my closest friend, Morgan Tree, the girl I have known since birth. She knows good and well that I am a creature of habit, so her intruding is her way of keeping my life 'healthy'. "You'd turn into a complete hermit if it weren't for me" she always says. It was true, but I didn't mind the idea. I have no real interest in participating in the friend group's incessant need to consume alcohol, so I don't see them often, except for Wednesday dinners at Harry's Diner. 'Harry's on Wednesdays' is a tradition that began with our parents and continued well into our childhood, so much so that once the parents stopped attending the dinners, we, their children, have carried on the weekly tradition. I had a deep love for each member of the friend group, I just don't have the need to see them as often as they get together, mainly because I value my alone time and prefer to spend my time reading or occasionally watching a new show on Netflix.

The clock that hung on the faded, distressed red brick wall read seven thirty-six a.m., letting me know that I had less than thirty minutes to get dressed and get downstairs to open Bound Together Books, the bookstore where I work and have worked since I was fifteen. My apartment is conveniently located right above the bookstore, but only inconveniently accessible by the spiral staircase in the middle of the bookstore. Thankfully, the owners, Faye and Harvey, installed a rope that blocked off the stairs entry way. There was only the one apartment above the store, so I was the only person who resided here, though I have heard many people offering big money to have the space. Faye and Harvey both reassure me that the space is mine until I'm sick of it, but I've been here since the day I turned eighteen and I'm still not sick of it, so I don't see myself going anywhere anytime soon. The apartment is absolutely perfect, with walls of shelves that trace my bedroom, the stairs that lead to the bedroom since the room is lifted an extra foot from the floor, the exposed brick walls, and the bay window that is perfect for my reading nook.

My phone chimed, signaling an incoming text message, though I chose to ignore it until after the store was open. I readied myself in faded, light-washed boyfriend jeans, a loose fitted, white long sleeve shirt that tucked into the front of my waistband, along with an old pair of now off-white colored converse. My hair naturally fell the way I like it, so I never bother to brush or style it. Wearing makeup wasn't all that important to me, but Morgan tells me I look best with just a little blush, mascara, and chapstick, so that is exactly what I apply to my face each morning.

The ringtone set just for Morgan, by Morgan, interrupted my music that played lightly over the speakers around my room. When I answered, she told me that she was here and waiting out in the "freezing cold" for me to let her in. I sloppily turned off the speakers, unplugged my phone from its charger, and headed downstairs to the front door to greet my friend.

"Alex, it's literally ten degrees out here." She called through the glass windows on the door.

"You're just a bit dramatic. You know, you wouldn't be so cold if you allowed yourself plenty of sleep and time to relax in the morning. You would've warmed up a little." I told her as I unlatched the three locks on the front door.