He Calls a Mansion, Not a House, but a Tomb

I opened my eyes, hearing a familiar song playing at my ear. I smiled and grabbed my cellphone, holding it to my chest for a moment.
So dum di dum di dum,
I'm get more and more strange
I'm going insane
I'm building it up just to break it down
You get what you see
A product of a dysfunctional family
I flipped open and closed my phone to shut off the alarm. I sighed and rolled onto my stomach, my left cheek on my pillow. I smiled against the soft fabric and hugged it, feeling like a child refusing to get out of bed.
I almost screamed when the phone started ringing again, a different alarm. I looked at the screen.
Wake up you lazy bum!
I smiled at my psychic abilities to have had set two alarms as I listened to the second song.
"Girls don't like Boys
Girls like Cars and Money!"
I rolled my eyes at myself for have chosen this random song.
I picked myself up out of my bed, heading downstairs to the kitchen.
I caught myself humming "Boys and Girls" to myself a few times as I prepared my coffee.
There was a knock at the front door. I hurried off the answer the door, with the smell of the coffee alone putting a spring in my step.
"'Cause he pays for everything... Shit." I muttered to myself, scolding myself for getting a stupid song in my head. I opened the door to see a woman who was about 4, 9" --my height, thank you very much-- standing on my doorstep.
I felt embarrassed immediately as I realized I was wearing an over-sized, black Death Valley hoodie which were covering shorts. I basically looked like a classic woman who had just had sex in another man's house and chose to wear his clothing in the morning. I hate seeing that in movies, I really do. I scowled to myself, before forcing a small smile to be polite.
The woman looked me up and down for a second, eyebrows raised in a mixture of surprise and disapproval. "Uh... I'm sorry, did I come at a bad time?" She asked, her voice slightly rough in the morning-vocal-chord way. It would be back to normal after speaking for a few minutes.
"Uh, yeah, I guess... Who are you?" I asked, my voice under the same condition.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Lora Barry. I'm here to ask you for details on your new novel-- I called and left a message yesterday." She added the last part after a few seconds. I bit my lip. I hadn't finished listening to my messages.
"I'm sorry. I haven't listened to my messages yet. I was out late yesterday and went to sleep straight." I explained a bit too much. I tend to tell the entire story instead of just the required information-- in this case, "I haven't listened to my messages yet". Period.
She nodded slightly, looking over my outfit, still thinking exactly what I was when I had opened the door.
"Okay, then. Should I come back later?" She asked. I shook my head, earning wide eyes from her.
"No, I mean, I'm sorry. But I haven't written enough that I'm comfortable explaining the plot. It's not solid yet." I explained, trying to save myself from acting rude.
"It's alright. I left my number on my message. Call me when it's ready." Lora said with a sweet smile as she walked off to her car which was parked outside of my property gates. I don't know exactly why I have gates. I'm not that valuable, nor is anything in my house.
I shrugged off the thought as I returned to being mesmerized by the beautiful aroma of coffee.

I continuously tapped the space bar and the backspace button repeatedly, staring blankly at the computer screen. I tended to do things like that when I was brain-dead. I groaned, irritated that I couldn't think of one word!
I closed my eyes, darkness. You would think that when you close your eyes, it clears your mind.
When I closed my eyes, my latest dream pops up and replays. It was dark, a black-tinted blue. I was looking out through my full-length bedroom windows, staring at the beautiful trees I had preserved from when the construction workers had been planning to remove and replace with a pool. It made me feel like I was secluded in a beautiful forest. Suddenly, I felt two arms wrap around my waist, gripping tight.
I gasped, opening my eyes. My mouth stayed open, as I breathed heavily, trying to stay in reality. I wanted to rub my eyes and rid myself of the memory, but that would make me close them again. I shuddered, blinking extra-fast and looked to the computer screen. I bit my lip when I noticed I had about 3 pages of spaces now. I sighed, highlighted it all and pressed delete.
I pressed my cold fingertips to my hot cheeks as if that would warm them up somewhat. It never works, and yet I still do it. I swallowed hard, staring at my pages of writing I had created weeks ago. Not one little touch-up. And I refuse to give up on this story.
I looked at the time. 12:30 PM. I shrugged and stood up. I needed lunch. If I didn't get out of this house soon, I'd go insane.

I walked into the local diner which I always went to when I was too lazy to cook for myself-- everyday.
"Hey, Frank, what'll it be today?" Tracy, my regular waitress, walked up to my booth and asked.
"Hey, Tracy. I'll just have a salad, coffee with milk and 4 sugars and... hmm.. tuna sandwich or eggs if I can still have some." I ordered, smiling politely. She smiled back and nodded before walking off to the order counter.
Tracy was 17 years old and has been working at the diner for 2 years. We met on her first day at the diner. I remember like it was yesterday.
I had brought my sister, too. Tracy brought me salmon; I ordered a BLT sandwich, minus the B. She had spilled scalding hot coffee all over my crotch; I had ordered lemonade. When we ordered dessert, she dropped my free apple pie on my crotch. I walked home with pain all over. But, I could tell she was really nervous. And she didn't lose her job because I hadn't complained.
I smiled to myself as I looked out the window, humming the tune of "Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner" out of nowhere.
"You like Fall Out Boy, too?" I heard a voice ask. I looked up to see a scrawny-looking boy. He was thin and tall, wearing glasses with black frames with white rims. He wore a black hoodie and skinny jeans. I flashed a small smile at him out of courtesy, feeling awkward. He was listening to me hum?
"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out." He apologized. I half-smiled and looked up at him in silence.
"Alright, I'll--"
"Okay, Frank, here's your food. Enjoy." Tracy walked up, setting down my coffee, my salad and a steaming egg. I grinned up at her in thanks. She smiled before turning away, placing her eyes on the man standing at my table. "Oh, Frank, is this a friend of yours?" She asked, glancing at me.
"I'm Mikey." He said, shaking Tracy's hand. I stayed silent.
"Aw, Frank, he's nice. Are you joining Frank for lunch?" She asked Mikey excitedly. I rolled my eyes. Mikey shrugged.
"Okay, what would you like?" Tracy smiled widely.
"I'll just have.. what Frank's having." He replied, sliding into the seat across from me. I leaned my chin in my palm, staring at him.
"Don't tell me that I'm buying you lunch now, right?" I sighed. Mikey laughed and shook his head. I nodded, one corner of my mouth lifting up.
"Here's your salad, coffee with milk and no sugar, 'cause I don't know what you like." Tracy grinned, setting the food in front of Mikey. "No eggs after 12:00, sorry." She said, shrugging. I failed at stifling a girlish giggle and covered my face with my hand.
Mikey looked at me, confused.
"Nothing." I said, smiling. Mikey nodded, shrugging it off and digging in. I stared at him as he added only half a teaspoon of sugar into his coffee before chugging the mug. I could tell my eyes were as wide as could be by the stinging sensation I felt. I love coffee, but I could never drink it that fast.
"Whoa..." I whispered to myself.
"Sorry," Mikey mumbled and looked down to his salad shyly. I smiled at him, biting my lip.
"So, Mikey, what brings you to my table today?" I asked, collecting a full fork of lettuce and sliced up egg-- Egg is not supposed to be there, but I ask to add it. Don't judge; it's delicious!
"Nothing, I heard you humming and I had to comment." He said, taking a huge bite off his fork. I followed his example.
"Fascinating." I grinned.
"Isn't it?" He played along. I smiled.
Mikey seemed to be a nice character. A bit of an awkward appearance, but I'm fascinated about his personality now. His eyes were hazel-green-- green being the more dominant colour. His brown hair looked like it had been combed neatly, but obviously ruffled and played with afterward.
"So, Frank, what do you do?" He asked. I shrugged.
"I'm a writer." I replied, taking a big bite off my folk. Mikey smiled.
"That's cool. What kind of stuff do you write?" He asked. I thought over it for a moment, thinking of what would sum up my genre.
"I write a lot of kinds of things. It's always fictional... Comedy, drama, action... Romance." I said, listing by order of frequency. Mikey nodded.
"Interesting. How many books have you published?" He asked.
"Well, I've written a lot, but only have published about 4 or 5 out of I don't know how many." I chuckled. Mikey smiled with me.
"What's your latest novel? I want to check it out." Mikey said enthusiastically.
"It's called Trainwreck. Under 'drama'." I replied with a smile. Mikey nodded.
"Well, I'm sorry for crashing your lunch. Bye." Mikey said, placing a twenty-dollar bill onto the table.
"Bye, Mikey." I said as he stood up, watching him walk out the diner doors.