The store, remarkably, had been open. I purchased some WD-40, and some cloths that I could use to clean my shoes off. After I was done, I would promptly throw them out. They were cheap, and had colorful flowers on them. Perfect for throwing away. The package remained under my arm throughout the whole transaction, a niggling reminder of what lay in wait for me tomorrow. Dealing with the Brat. Wonderful.
The trip home was pretty quiet- sometimes I had homeless men try to stop the car when driving back from little jobs in that part of town, but they all seemed to be holed up in the cold air. My car, a Chevrolet Impala that made me feel important, stalled a single time, before my angry fist hitting the steering wheel provided motivation enough to start working again. It was old, and not in the sense that makes it cool, or valuable. It was run down and beat up, constantly in need of repairs that I couldn’t give it. We had a love-hate relationship. Mostly hate. Either way, it was mutual. I put the package down on the rarely used passenger seat, and self consciously looked down at it once in a while on the drive home.
Eventually, with my thoughts still directed towards the package, I pulled up in front of my house. It was dingy, I knew. I wasn’t proud of it. Paint peeled, hedges sagged, and the lawn was not quite a lawn anymore. More dirt and dead grass than anything else. Perhaps some worms. Sighing at the disrepair I came home to everyday, I pulled out the package and the plastic bag with my supplies for rescuing my shoes from a death of dirt. The car door shut with a slam.
Inside, my apartment was pretty bare. I was used to the empty graying walls, and the lack of light, but it still never seemed home to me. Usually, I was tucked away in my office, and that wasn’t much better. My coat brushed a wall on my way in, and another piece of paint came away with my shoulder, apparently finding a new home on my coat. I was already in my room when I finally saw the refugee, and brushed it off to the worn rug with a sigh. Tossing the package onto a sagging chair in the corner, I took off my coat. I realized how callously I had just treated the mystery package and looked back with guilt.
It was fine, resting on the gray chair as if I placed if there with care. Relieved, I turned back and sat on my bed, exhausted. I check my alarm clock, and the red numbers glared back. 3:00. The dot was lit in the bottom right corner. Yep. 3 AM
. I sighed and lay back, my stiff mattress not giving an inch. My eyes started to close of their own accord before I opened them back up with reluctance. The least I could do was get out of my coat and take off my shoes. I shouldered off my brown coat, and struggled with my shoes for a moment, before remembering how filthy they were. A project for the morning, I guess. Or rather, later that morning.
With my coat and shoes off, I laid back down, feeling somewhat relaxed. Soon enough, my eyes closed, and I was asleep, socks on and mumbling obscenities.
Spoiler
I feel like this doesn't accomplish much. And it seems like it's a different tone from the first one. It's mostly description. Does it sound forced? I dunno. I'm really insecure about this one, haha. Though I usually am about stories.
