This is the first blurb I’ve written in quite some time in an effort to begin writing stories again. It’s not great by any stretch of the imagination, but I will be extending it and adding. I’ll update again when I’ve worked on it more. This was jotted down to not forget the idea and the feel.
The mood of my day is decided early on. When I walk past her room there are two different things that could be seen. One, her bare feet poking out from beneath the knitted blanket that’s just ever so slightly too small for her bed. I imagine her narrow feet having tiny callouses by her toes, catching angrily on the wool of her coverage. Two, there are her dainty feet beside someone else’s. Perhaps they’re male, chunky, hairy, and a complete show of a lack of taking care of ones nail length and cuticles. Or its female and their legs are entangled happily. Only happy people deal with digging knees and uncomfortable ankles while the natural light from the window exposes just how pale they are. Fucking happy people.
This morning it is a matching pair of dainty feet. The strangers set with toenails adorned in a deep, deep red that I could never, ever even imagine attempting to pull off. She probably had on lipstick that matched before they mashed their faces together messily at whatever time last night. I torture myself.
I hope stranger girl’s polish chips immediately upon waking. I hope her lips are cracked and past lipstick crawls inside to make it appear as if she had been eating big, dirty shit sandwiches. I’m going to get a coffee and pretended I don’t exist inside of this ridiculous whirlwind of lust, love, and disgust. Why does she have to be so goddamn interesting? If she weren’t then being her roommate would be easy.