An Uneventful Day

[Caramell 🍬]

Please note, this is at least a one-shot for now. I could expand on mystery girl's world later, and just what she goes through in her mundane life. Currently, I have no goals to do such. Just wanted to write without a general purpose.

Chapter One: Life's a vicious cycle

Life remained an unyielding constant. As time dilated and passed by in a series of blurs, she arose in the morning and slumbered during the night in the same, rhythmic patterns. The clothes were already paired, pulled out of their dressers and off hangers within her closet, saving her precious time. Cooking and preparing meals for the rest of her day, supplying her beyond the commute to and from, changed only in the things she created, rarely in the ingredients she used to create them. Eggs paired with sausage or bacon, placed on the side of biscuits or on top of grits, and sometimes sprinkled generously with cheese.

Lunch remained the same constant, as well. Two fruits paired alongside a large salad and something similar, such as a granola bar for energy. The breaks came in the midst of the day, when the sun shone the brightest in the summer skies. She always carried her meals to the same picnic table, where a small flock of geese who brilliant brown feathers adorned with a strikingly black mask washed down the entirety of their neck save for a simply white streak on either side of their face, came begging like clockwork. A toss of some seeds, a half-hearted smile as they pecked furiously, wings fanned out with loud hisses to warn others of their kind to remain far enough back.

Was this just something she was meant to do on repeat? To what end? She could change the location or description of her work. She could switch up the foods she prepared and stuffed down her throat. She could even pick new locations to eat during lunch, or perhaps pack other snacks to attract a multitude of creatures to pass the day. But did it really change the course of events for her in the grand scheme of things? Was everyone destined to be the main character of their story, or were they all side characters with no earthly idea? The young lady studied the wild creatures in their majestic wander, letting the smile that bore witness to their approach infect her entire face.

The time went as quickly as it came, causing the young lady to pack up her things and head back inside. The wild geese remained the same as always, confused by the sudden approach and just as sudden removal of this generous deity who offered them seeds and bits of food to eat. They honked, wings flapping in agitation, and attempted to follow alongside their newfound bipedal companion. Other people filed in the young lady’s place, completely shooing the birds off or jumping away from them apprehensively. Defensively, they lowered their head, fanned out their wings, and hissed. The same ‘their aggressive’ comments erasing the reasons why the birds reacted the way they did, ushered throughout the crowd.

We’re not understood. A thought that lingered in the back of her head. They emerged as she stuffed herself behind her desk, mouse clicking away on the same screen that blinked with the same visuals and bits of sporadic alphanumeric symbols. Occasionally, she found her eyes wandering up to the windowsill where strange silhouettes danced on the open breeze against the backdrop of soft baby blues and puffy white clouds. They were truly free! Though they struggled for the resources they needed, with some undoubtedly not making through the subsequent winters that would soon approach them, they were free. She traded her freedom for weekend visitation rights for some scraps of linen and cotton bound into a small piece of paper with strange denotation scribbled in its corners.

The project was finished, packed inside of a perfect message as an attachment, and sent off to the proper channels. She arose from her seat after clocking out and shutting everything back down, and wandered out of the building. Packed inside of her generic car whose white paint splattered with strange grey splotches from the harsh weathers and heavy layers of pollen, littered inside from one end to the other with forgotten emptied cups and ripped open wrappers, carried her just the same back to her house. The lonely visitor of a small creature with long antennas and a hard shell encasing its softer body popped out from the vents. It stared, twitching its long antennas nervously, then ducked back out of sight as soon as the young lady reached out with one gigantic finger towards the newfound friend.

Of course, none would keep these pests that caused a total nuisance in their society, nor would they actively admit driving around with them comfortably scuttling about inside of their vehicles. Rumors circulated the same mills of the types of individuals who housed such and would be heightened by the sight of her ride. Still, she remained so largely alone and comfortable in her existence, that she minded not the strange crawling creatures that littered her home or her car, and often greeted those that ran underfoot either through the long, unkempt grass or via tunnels in the ground by name.

The same notice sat on her door as soon as she approached. The young lady plucked it off, wrinkling up her nose in disgust, and balled the bright orange sheet into a crumpled heap that she tossed into her trash can. They could keep their idle threats, whether they made good on the promises or not. It was just more noise that burned in the back of her head, more pain that etched inside of her skull. It was unwelcome in her current state, whether furry felines pressed against their beloved human with loud calls to remind her that in their lives she was still needed.

So, she carried herself from the living room to kitchen, chucking cans from nearby shelves onto the large kitchen table, before ripping their tops off and dividing the meals into separate bowls. Her words were soft, subtle, with mewing interspersed between coherent human words that only drove her cats into a fervor. Their meows clamored to the rooftop overhead, as though it would carry off into the streets to warn passersby of the horrors faced within their home if they weren’t fed exactly like clockwork. She laughed, picking the bowls up individually and displacing them from each other to ensure that each had enough space from the other.

The night carried with it the same reprise. She stretched out on her bed, covers pulled to the nape of her neck, and curled with one leg kicked out from underneath the corner of the cover. Sleep was a delusion that never came easy to her. Long nights were spent blinking into the black void that surrounded her, with thoughts that raced around her brain in repetition. Some of them carried bittersweet reminders of the past, some carried apathetic concerns of the future, but none of them were beneficial to her goal of sleep. When and how she finally drifted off would always remain a mystery. The only thing she knew come morning light was the accuracy at which she would be forced to repeat her day all over again.