Prompt: Scene of something mundane from everyday life, but descriptions to make it uniquely your experience.
My eyes flutter open as the alarm blares in my ear. I searched around for my phone to hit the snooze button for the fifth time that morning, before I finally got out of the warm cocoon of blankets. As I stumbled through the darkness that is my room, I stubbed my toe. Turning on the light, I looked to see what I had stubbed my toe on, only to find one of my navy blue converse. If only I could find the other half of my pair of shoes, then I could start getting ready for work. After spending ten minutes looking under my bed and under the mountain of clothes I have yet to wash, I finally found the match to my shoe. With both of my shoes in hand, and my outfit picked out for the day, I trek down the hallway towards the bathroom.
As soon as my foot touches the sandy tile of the bathroom floor, I jolt back into the hall. Every morning I forget how cold it is in the bathroom, and every morning I forget to put my socks on before entering. Powering through the cold biting at my skin, I rush into the bathroom to turn on the heater. Despite turning the heater on and seeing that it is plugged in, the heater does not whir to live like usual. Damn thing must be broken again. Without my heater, I lose all hope in being warm until I get in the car to leave. I scramble to put my legs into my pants. After getting my legs into the pants, I simultaneously jump and pull them up at the same time. This has been my routine to get my pants up my legs since I was 12 and still in elementary school. Once my pants were on, I pulled my orange, fleece sweater over my head. After getting ready for the day, I head into the kitchen.
Walking into the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the two red cans of Coca Cola that I had put in there the night before. Setting the cans on the counter, I stood on my tippy toes to reach the top cabinet, but I failed. Huffing, I had to resort to climbing on top of the counter to reach my frosted strawberry pop tarts in the top cabinet. Sometimes it really sucked being 5’2, in a house full of people that are taller than me. Grabbing my cans, my poptart, my backpack, and my keys, I headed out the front door to my car. I yank my car door open and slide into the driver’s seat. Before buckling my seatbelt, I crank the heat to full blast and connect my phone to the radio. I scroll through my Spotify until I find what I am looking for. Morbid. I click on the podcast and find the latest episode that was posted last night. As I made my way down our gravel driveway, I got lost in the disappearance of Brandon Swanson.
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