C1 1

Sullen, tired after a couple of peach teacups...

Showing a second of an entire time, to haste about...I get up slowly. I fold a finger to fix my eyelashes, which are blocking my sight. I frown submissively. The room is a quite messy space, hence the sunlight is posing it too well before my weak visage.

The door knocks fine tenacious. The decent crawl and sloth finds home on my knees.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Loo bear!"

"What do you want on Saturday?"

I squall, pressing my thighs hunched to the soft sheets. Crazy soft ones...

"My pencil?"

Ayla, the gal that refuses to show up in auditors, now is interested in a borrowed pen. I sigh.

She knocks again, aggressive this time. I swear between clenching peach-flavored teeth. Vaulting to the locker, I gather fists in a delicate hit after wooden door.

"Tadddaaa!"

Ayla startles childishly in front of my threshold.

"Why did you fucking plant at 7?"

"I got a call from Theo? He was worried about you, 'cause you didn't answer...

"That's the matter?" I cut in mid of speech, relaxing dull arms toward the door closed. Friends are speaking dressed fashionably in PJs, outside in the blank hall.

"He was worried, I couldn't hang up!"

"Don't spread info about me, especially to him!"

I grizzly open the door, shoving interestless inside.

"Why? Luna!"

I begin to tear up, wiping the cheeks carefully. Sustained silent, the truth is Theo harnessed me for his hooker desires. I fix all withered wrinkles in my PJs and faint-like climb on top of the bed.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

All tears seem to intensify and slowly put me asleep. My fatigue has another two hours to contritely resist before I should show up at work.

Knocks are finally offline, so glad nobody is consenting about my well-existence right now.

Sleep state connects, with the cloudy weather glowing afterward. It's March and arising stiff cold requires heavy blankets. I drag a balmy one and cover all my body, shaking and crying...

I hover soaked in tears between clothes and wait for the right time to hit on the road.

Eyes shut wrong. Later...

Crap! Time is running out. 9.05

I should be jogging around the workroom right now, not sleeping mesmerized, with swollen delayed eye corners.

"Fuck you, Luna! You overslept!"

Barely do I fix the hair, distracting my breathing, which lasts forever.

I rush like an uncompleted silly to find the perfect matched suit. To jab right onto the bus station, and wait for long minutes, the only mini-bus passing through this avenue. My skiing sweater is pretty woolen to go out, and this shirt is thin enough to catch an unendurable cold. I go with the chicest, the woolen sweater.

The red and yellow baggy sweater leaves spaces forward my tummy and lengthens to the knees. Finally, my skinny legs thrust a pair of second-handed blue jeans.

I wear a pair of socks, slender and short, with flush cheeks reminding me how cold is turning today. I pack up my work uniform, sweets' shop jeans and long white shirt, duly and just cleaned.

Shoving in a hop of seconds inside a large bag case, ready to go!

Distinctively, I frown for a couple of seconds, before showing dispatched in front of chatty teenagers. My eyesight narrows as soon as I meet the gate. Slant gait, horse-like gasping, red nose describe my look. It is a cold day. Clock wisely ticks 9.15

This late...how do I build a good justification?

Daniel, my colleague, also my best friend, detests late shows. I cough. Then I sneeze, holding with a papery, light tissue the particles.

Quickly some hand thumps on my left arm. Really arching to find out who it is, her chuckle showcases the worst:

"Ay, you stupid!"

"You got scared?"

She lightens the marked walls with a lively grin. I smile back gray. My inner self strides to go out of this territory and walk aside the sidewalk.

"Did you call him back?"

"Who?"

I ask her back.

"Theo? Who else?"

My attitude alters. Headaches multiply shrill. Her question reveals a lot of upset in this early 9 o'clock.

"Why would I?"

I reply, fists-collected, face-reddened and low tone of calm.

We are at last marching through heavy crowds. From handicapped roads to the main highway...

I stomp, fanning bleak breathing on my uncovered neck. The sweater's ruffle from time to time falls. My hands remain up, trying so tensely to solve this error.

Bicycles chime, a known tune between locked haste and my eyes rolling to find out the bus' destination. Birds tweet. High buildings hide the sun's warmth, the most important element right now for my mind.

I rewatch the clock:

"9.25!"

"How often do they come?"

Ayla is working for the first time with me, at the same workplace. She accurately doesn't know when or where it's going to drive to. I answer logically clear-minded.

"Around 15 minutes?"

Utterly rhyming, singing; I fetch soothe hands inside pockets. Long sleeves do a great job, in the middle of a cold wave.

Meanwhile, I forget about the bus, and rely on lavish cars, swiping through the air, at uncontrolled speed.

"Loo! It's coming! Wake up!"

She jokingly sways me off imagining. I hum.

"hUH?"

"You want me to leave by here all day? Crazy but worth trying...

Ayla simmers fooling with me almost all the freaking time. Seeming above crispness, there it comes. People are prepared to jump off. My stiff state of mind doesn't endure clashes and thwacks. The bus rings in my ears so muffled.

"Come on Luna!"

I am lost...She grips my hands like a nanny, pulling me inside the bus. Her calling is incomprehensible.

Shaky hands, cold breasts, low temperature have planted ill in me. The blue bus is overfilling with late-to-work women and men, all ages.

Ayla manages to sit me down next to the window. She calls for water:

"Do you want water? You look shitty!"

Her blend of mock, and satiable need for the aid of mine sounds quirky to people, constantly jabbing glances at me.

"Let me get the card...

Feebly start digging inside my tiny wallet for the bus' subscription card.

"I have it! Don't worry!"

Ayla interferes, submitting her card to a middle-aged man.

"You're okay!"

He says.

"Thank you!"

Ay gazes hopefully, lip-syncing lovely, thank-YOU.

"Oh Gosh, this is very uncomfortable? Are these spikes beneath my ass?"

She frolics. Gleefully upsetting corner to corner, she sighs, and finally finds her favorite post.

"Do you want to talk?"

"About what?" I lean my head versus the window, gazing sadly.

"Your break-up with Theo? It's unbelievable you divided?"

"What don't you believe, huh Ayla!"

I turn against her curiosity in a strong sonorous cough voice.

"He wasn't worthy! Right? DOES THAT SEEM ENOUGH TO BELIEVE?"

She winks, lip-biting.

I suddenly turn into a rubbish victim, re-shooting those past images... Ayla leans backward, laughing underneath.

I laugh along. Infectious afterfight's smile deserves cheap attention. People thoroughly pour their stares at us, snuggling, teeth-opened.

"I observed a cat on the Net...

"Yes...

I burst into further laughter. Ayla conceals tears in choking hoarse retelling.

Our hair entangles so messily.

"It assaulted its owner...like thumped its nails down his throat...so funny!"

"Else...

"He called 911...for a blister?"

We linger voices in a short glee moment.

"Old railway!"

The before's middle-aged man calls abruptly.

"It's our station!"

"Please stop it!" Ayla screams, loathsome.

The bus starts moving, with us not considering our stop.