The young woman sighed to herself as she went into the shower, returning to her schedule. Showers were always fast for Emily and for everyone in the apartment complex. The landlord, Mr. Halestor, had the look of a homely gentleman getting well into his later years; however, he would strike anyone down if they so dare disobey his water usage instructions. Figuratively speaking. In reality, he would give you a small fine with a beaten look on his face. He was more of a parental figure no one in the building wanted to let down. The man had been facing some trouble with his own family recently and the toll was blatant. Mr. Halestor rarely visited the upper floors, except when on business, and left the lobby to retire to his bedroom everyday at noon. On the topic of water regulation, Emily felt it was understandable since nearly half of the state was in a drought.
After the eighteen-year old left the bathroom, the water turned off and a towel around her body, she was quickly reminded of her own problems. Over twenty stuffed animals of varying size, color and fabrics occupied her bed. Each of them had the same generically amused smile stitched on their face. One could make an argument that these items were a cause to why her bed was so lumpy. More importantly, Emily’s years of defiance to remove a single doll from her place of slumber left her family to write it as a quirk they were just going to have to accept. On the other hand, the rebellious teen was having a change of heart. Every component of her room seemed to establish how childish the brunette could be: faded saturday-morning cartoon posters, blankets with rainbow and unicorn prints, a ten-year old “cat on a rocket-ship” statue next to pervy bear clock, etc. She didn’t hate her longtime possessions for how childish they were. What irked Emily was how much her baggage could ruin her reputation at school. The eighteen-year old had a handful of friends, none of which were close enough for her to invite them over. Nothing positive was in the girl’s mind when it came to thinking of someone from her class discovering her secret. Emily DeVowse, High School Senior, Eighteen going on Eight. The young woman shook her head to get rid of the simulated mockery. Her fist clenched onto the rag wrapped around her torso, reminding her how long she had been in this revealed state. Wishing to know the exact time, the brunette glanced at her clock before changing into something proper.
8:38 am
“WHAT!?! THAT CAN’T BE RIGHT!!!!! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!?!?!?!” Emily screamed as she ran to her phone to see the correct time.
8:39 am
Internally, Emily further interrogated her memories to see where she had gone wrong and concluded that she had misread the time as a result of her temporally impaired vision from earlier. Externally, the woman was yelling “Shit! Shit Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” while she scrambled to find some clean clothes. Not a second could be wasted as...
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