Status: Okay, so the whole 'get everything off my laptop' plan went to hell. The harddrive is messed up. All the chapters I'd written are gone. I don't think I'll delete ACA and I will probably continue it, but I can't say how long it will be before I do. I am considering redoing it completely.
A Cigarette Affair
Aging daydreams.
Another sunrise, deceitfully lovely in the face of another day, grueling in its monotony. She isn’t going to have to put up with any of it much longer, though.
The thought comforts Pippa as she makes her way through the motions of the day.
Six o’ clock. She slams her hand into the snooze button.
Six o’ nine. She drags herself from the bed. Showers. Dresses. Takes a few moments to grab breakfast; one menthol to go, and she sucks the smoke down like orange juice. Makes sure to grab a torn, battered copy of Harry Potter (first in the series) and says farewell to an empty house. No one is there to return the goodbye.
It’s the usual routine.
Six forty-three. Bus stop. The great, creaking beast shudders to a stop on the damp asphalt, belches gray exhaust. Pippa clambers aboard, slides into her usual seat, smack dab in the middle of the bus. Ear-candy earphones to block out the noise. Daydreams of a different place, where joy really exists and despair hasn’t made her far too old for her seventeen years.
Six fifty-seven.
And she loses herself in the music.
The thought comforts Pippa as she makes her way through the motions of the day.
Six o’ clock. She slams her hand into the snooze button.
Six o’ nine. She drags herself from the bed. Showers. Dresses. Takes a few moments to grab breakfast; one menthol to go, and she sucks the smoke down like orange juice. Makes sure to grab a torn, battered copy of Harry Potter (first in the series) and says farewell to an empty house. No one is there to return the goodbye.
It’s the usual routine.
Six forty-three. Bus stop. The great, creaking beast shudders to a stop on the damp asphalt, belches gray exhaust. Pippa clambers aboard, slides into her usual seat, smack dab in the middle of the bus. Ear-candy earphones to block out the noise. Daydreams of a different place, where joy really exists and despair hasn’t made her far too old for her seventeen years.
Six fifty-seven.
And she loses herself in the music.