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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 06/06/2015
The sound of static-y 80s rock woke me up. I opened my eyes to see gray light flooding into my bedroom, muting the colors of my walls and pictures to make the room seem dull and depressing. I looked around at the walls; the room seemed to be smaller than it had the day before.
The shower felt nice on my skin, and I started to feel more awake. I began running through vocabulary in my head: axillary means armpit, digital means finger, palmar means palm, calcaneal means hips- no- heel... I closed my eyes and imagined each word as I said it; imagined seeing the question on the test and writing the answer correctly.
I came out into the kitchen and looked around. I had 10 minutes before I had to leave for the bus and just enough money in my bank account to pay for my cell phone bill. I grabbed a stale croissant out of the cabinet, a bruised apple from the fridge, and retreated to my room to put my shoes on.
My eyelids got heavy as I tried to read the small text of my book on the bus. I took a moment to glance out the window. This part of the trip was always my favorite: Darlburg. The houses were all so beautiful; they had stone walls just for decoration, flowers neatly placed in the dark red sawdust, and fancy electric cars because these families could afford to care about the environment. I imagined their backyards full of vegetable gardens, hot tubs, and trampolines for the kids to play on. A woman jogged by on the clean sidewalk and turned the corner to jog further up the hill. I watched her disappear and then turned my tired eyes back to my textbook.
Work was slow. I helped customers when they came in and deep-cleaned the store when there was nothing better to do. I waited for my supervisor to send someone home early, half-hoping that it was me and half-hoping that it wasn't so that I could get those extra forty dollars for the last five and a half hours of my shift.
I got home at 12:06. If I finished my essay in two hours, I could have exactly four hours and twenty-four minutes to sleep. I set my goal and made myself a cup of black tea. I stepped into my room with my tea and made my way to my computer. The dark room had grown smaller once again.
Glass Windows(Rachel Bice)
The sound of static-y 80s rock woke me up. I opened my eyes to see gray light flooding into my bedroom, muting the colors of my walls and pictures to make the room seem dull and depressing. I looked around at the walls; the room seemed to be smaller than it had the day before.
The shower felt nice on my skin, and I started to feel more awake. I began running through vocabulary in my head: axillary means armpit, digital means finger, palmar means palm, calcaneal means hips- no- heel... I closed my eyes and imagined each word as I said it; imagined seeing the question on the test and writing the answer correctly.
I came out into the kitchen and looked around. I had 10 minutes before I had to leave for the bus and just enough money in my bank account to pay for my cell phone bill. I grabbed a stale croissant out of the cabinet, a bruised apple from the fridge, and retreated to my room to put my shoes on.
My eyelids got heavy as I tried to read the small text of my book on the bus. I took a moment to glance out the window. This part of the trip was always my favorite: Darlburg. The houses were all so beautiful; they had stone walls just for decoration, flowers neatly placed in the dark red sawdust, and fancy electric cars because these families could afford to care about the environment. I imagined their backyards full of vegetable gardens, hot tubs, and trampolines for the kids to play on. A woman jogged by on the clean sidewalk and turned the corner to jog further up the hill. I watched her disappear and then turned my tired eyes back to my textbook.
Work was slow. I helped customers when they came in and deep-cleaned the store when there was nothing better to do. I waited for my supervisor to send someone home early, half-hoping that it was me and half-hoping that it wasn't so that I could get those extra forty dollars for the last five and a half hours of my shift.
I got home at 12:06. If I finished my essay in two hours, I could have exactly four hours and twenty-four minutes to sleep. I set my goal and made myself a cup of black tea. I stepped into my room with my tea and made my way to my computer. The dark room had grown smaller once again.
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