|NC - Effort (standard:romance, 797 words)|
|Author: Freya Griffin||Added: Jun 25 2004||Views/Reads: 1915/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|What makes her get up off bed every morning|
The east side of the room consisted of a huge window and the bed was positioned right by it. The purpose was so when the sun rises, the first thing caressed by the soft morning sunrays is the naked skin exposed as the blanket being gone, tossed aside. So when she waked up, the first thing she would see is the colors outside awaken from the cold grey of the night. So this new life spirit infused her with energy to jump out of the bed, from the sleepiness that bound her eyes shut tight, and her locked limbs. The problem is whenever she opened her eyes, there's always a reason that makes her wants to be inside her room forever, all day, just cuddled up in the bed or in the couch beside the dressing table, in the corner where the light only left a trace of its existence. It was raining outside that day. Outside her window, the colors froze into a chilling grey. Lines blurred by the semi-transparent curtain formed by the water droplets, adding the illusion of exhaustion and laziness of a somber world. But this morning, like the morning before and the next, she has to get up of bed and get out of her room. Thanks to technological advances, hot water is always available whenever the faucet is turned. Taking her long hot shower she figured out something she didn't understand, why would she takes a hot shower when in 15 minutes after she's all dried up and clothed, she'd be out under the rain to get wet and cold again. No breakfast because her fridge is empty. A traditional black umbrella, raincoat, and boots, she went out to face the by passer spurting water and mud in every water pool formed at the side of the streets. There are three crossroads she had to cross before she got to the place she had in mind. Unconsciously she creates a map of the streets, counted and marked her progress towards the place and always smiles to see the last crossroad not far ahead. The building was white with big glass windows. Slender shining chromed lights hung orderly across the ceiling. Movable partitions arranged as walls with asymmetrical corners and curves separating pathways was filling up two third of the first floor. The rest of it was filled with chairs and a reception desk. Behind this room a spacious office and on the second and third floor, a studio loft spaced into 5 rooms for each resident artists. She knows. She's been in there.. The glass door elegantly decorated with a logo engraved in gold, picturing a badger carrying an opened umbrella. The Badger Gallery and Studio. She stepped in after making an effort to dry herself as much as she could. The girl behind the receptionist desk lifted her head upon the entrance, nodding and smiled adequately. She lifted a palm to greet the receptionist. She wasted no time to go where she wanted to. The third row it was. A monochrome photograph, a silhouette of a man standing by a huge window against the sunlight. “Self Portrait”. Made by Jack Ribbon. Somebody came through the door. A friendly masculine voice greeted the receptionist girl. Asking about news and trading information about the bad weather outside. She walked slowly, not making a sound, to the end of the third row. Stretching her neck cautiously behind the partition wall to see. The man striped himself off his raincoat and put his umbrella in the umbrella stand. He was wearing an old green army sweater, the color faded on the collar. As usual his hair was a mess. He carried a black plastic bag, wet by the rain. His backpack was in it. As he waited for the elevator he turned his head around, browsing through the room. She quickly hid herself. Her heart beating violently. It didn't make any sense but she held her breath too. She could hear him apologized to the receptionist girl about the wet patched he made on the floor. As soon as the “ping” of the elevator door is heard, she made a swift move towards the entrance door. At the umbrella stand she halted for a while, hesitating to grab her own umbrella. Her hand brushed against the handle of his umbrella as she took hers and made it outside the building with a big grin on her face. The man was Jack Ribbon. For three months he would be working and exhibiting with the Badger. For a month, every morning before she started her day, she came to the Badger to see Jack Ribbon arrived through the entrance door, greeted the receptionist, and entered the elevator to go to his studio on the third floor. Tweet
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