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Yana's elbows dug into the blue, oddly aesthetic tile counter as a fuzzy blanket hugged her like a straight jacket, and yet, goosebumps still rose on her skin, and she couldn't ease the shivers that riddled her body.
The soft hum of her seemingly broken heater droned throughout the building, and even though the sun blatantly flaunted it's fiery heat from just outside her window, she felt like she was trapped in Alaska, freezing in the confinement of her new house.
A breath, curt and irritated, stumbled from her lips as she gripped the warm body of her unicorn mug tighter, surviving solely off of the heat her hot coca provided.
The aromas of moved dust, chocolate and cardboard tangoed in her nostrils, as well as an unidentified scent that completed that indescribable new house smell.
She tapped soft rhythms into the hot pink glass of her mug, attempting to distract herself from the chattering of her teeth. To warm her frozen-solid insides, she lifted the cup to her lips, when a loud BANG caused her to spill the burning liquid directly onto her thigh.
Her chair screeching in agony as she stumbled back, she hissed through clenched teeth as she stared at the brown stain on the leg of her jeans, it's heat rivaling the sun's.
Well, at least she wasn't cold anymore.
Muttering some creative curse words under her breath, her head swiveled, her narrowed eyes seeking the source of the vile disruption that had caused the downfall of her beloved hot coca.
Her glare found a fallen picture frame, and her face immediately contorted into a snarl as she stomped towards it, because anything that harmed her hot coca deserved to die, naturally.
The wood of the frame began to clatter as a plead for mercy as she harshly scooped up the damn thing, her eyes scanning it for a reason why she shouldn't trash it.
It was a small little frame, and it certainly didn't belong on the floor, or anywhere, for that matter. It was the kind of frame that had a stand, and could only be placed on a table, despite the fact that she was yet to acquire any furniture. Glancing around, she was unable to locate its origin, since it certainly didn't have a place on the wall, and there was no where it could have fallen from.
"Huh," she hummed, eyebrows squishing together.
Yana twirled the picture in her fingers, so zoned out that she already forgot about the tingling heat lingering in her leg.
Gone initially unnoticed due to its realism, the picture frame actually held a painting within it, so old that the paper the artist used as a canvas had earned a yellow tint. A boy, trapped inside a two dimension world, was illustrated on the cover.
His blond hair spilled over his forehead like tsunami, ever so rumpled, as if the model had just woken up. The painting's eyes were as dark as the beclouded ocean at twilight, yet they held a softness to them; a kindness hidden by the gloominess of his irises. His rose-colored lips were slightly pursed together, and Yana got the feeling that this is how they usually were- pressed together in disappointment.
He seemed lost in thought, or maybe he was simply lost.
Yana gazed upon the soft features of the painting, entranced by the beauty it's vibrant colors held.
Realizing she had been standing there for possibly way longer than the social norm, she quickly returned to her seat, propping the enthralling object in front of her. Yana couldn't tear her eyes away from the painting, sipping her coca as her fingers traced the bridge of the mystery man's nose.
Her admiration was interrupted by the alarming sound of footsteps thundering from upstairs.
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