Circling Back to the Beginning

Alora threw open her rundown, scrappy, smelling like it was wood with mold door against the back wall. It was pitiful. Not an ounce of concern was held in her mind for the piece of wood that sure looked, plus smelled like that alone should break it. No concern was held in her mid for much anyone, or anything currently. She was simply happy to be back in her crappy apartment after a long day of work. Sure, the living space was dull and had to be infested by rats, if not something much worse, but at least it held a bed. A falling apart, frayed, dusty bed, but a resting place, nonetheless. She did not want to wash off her smeared with makeup, plus the gross sludge of the day face, so she did not. She left the black lines that were highly defined under her eyes since there was no one to judge her in her dark, dreary-draped apartment, or so it seemed so why should she try? Alora Finamore spent every waking moment of her life trying to impress somebody who was anybody, well, at least when she was awake. Whether it was newsie handing her the Times in the brisk AM hours when it was the morning (Noah was her favorite) or the restaurant’s manager, Mitchell Moore, whom she was trying to convince that she was worth selling for more than her looks, by way of red cherry lipstick and dark, thick, fluttering with her eyelids mascara (it was a several tiered plan). Right now, though was not theirs at all, which was why she did not mind dumping herself on her bed, possibly to never wake up again. Home. Finally. She made no Peter Pan out of herself; she did not have the time. Except for now of course. Now she could be whoever she wanted to be. This time was always short-lived, so she had better make the most of it. If she remained awake much longer, she knew it would only be seconds before she could smell the morning coffee of Jimenezara Café next door. Tart, sweet, luscious. There were times that Alora had the wish and dream of something like that touching or brushing its way past her lips. Just give her a second…nothing. She already could smell sharp coffee. That was quick. Time flies when you are having fun, I guess. Ha. Alora had the dream of one day having fun like that. She also knew that at times she fell so quickly into sleep that she had no sense of remembering it, or perhaps one of her vain imaginings of the night. Why did she ever bother remembering those anyway? None of them would ever come true. Not if you lived in the dim, meek place known as reality. Sorry, Walt Disney, but dreams do not come true, no matter how many stars she bothered wishing on. That was just the way that her own cookie crumbled. Quickly. With constant bother. Stupidly. She had no time laying there wishing that she would fall back asleep, so she arose from her tattered sheets (she moved her left foot in her sleep and it caused her gray sheets to wear away more than they already were) and started to get ready for the day. Alora walked to her bathroom, unsheathed herself quickly and quietly from her dirty clothes, threw them in the washer (did she really buy that lemon detergent? It was usually too pricy for her taste.) and quickly hopped in the shower, where the water was warmer and more luxuriously comforting today. That was weird. She should have checked her clock before taking a shower because it might give her a reason for this oddity. She could perhaps be the first person living in Sons Advisor to take a shower today. That was odd. Out of all of everybody currently inhabited there…she was the first and she wasn’t running her own business like tall, regal, fit for the part Peter Hogan was or taking care of too many children for a late shower like Ruth Martel was on the next floor. Lucky her. Alora reached out for a shampoo bottle that she never bought (Capillus Shampoo) and smiled at her stupidity. She could be angry, but the free warm water felt so nice as it was gliding down her body currently. Anyway, her light blonde hair would smell like coconut today, and who did not like that (especially if it possibly drew the eyes away from solely her good looks)? She closed her dark brown eyes and lathered herself. She deserved to. The outside world was awfully quiet for whatever time it happened to be. When she thought she was far past her point, and her cup was far past the rim full of luxury, she decided to get on with the morning, looking forward to her day in the slightest way a bit now. As she got drew on her strangely warm hot pink robe and her bewilderingly clean clothes from her personal washer for their minute (or minutes, because let’s get real) in the dryer, she found herself humming a happy tune, almost as if all these things happening to her were expected. As if she were finally paying due what the regularly cruel world had laid as her due. She was humming the gleeful tune of “Good Morning” as if there were hope in the rest of the day, as a good one. She cooked her oatmeal (it was inexplicably warmer today), dabbed her blueberries on top (they were mysteriously sweeter today), and sprinkled her light brown sugar on top (expecting more dazzlement, all of a sudden, if anything). Suddenly, she heard her dryer buzz. That was fast. Alora cautiously approached the machine she used to finish off her laundry, honestly expecting her power to be shut off cruelly by Brandon, the owner who claimed she was always behind in her payments, although she knew that she ever was, but shy would the light still be on above her, along with the microwave running in her small kitchen. When she opened the dryer, her face held plain shock. Her uniform was the driest it had yet been, and it remained curiously warm. If the world was paying her back in this kindness, she thought it was damn well time and was not complaining…she was only shocked. Alora quickly slipped into her small red skirt along with her buttoned up white shirt, that somehow had her nametag that still lay in perfection already on. It was warm and smelled oddly like her dreams, so she knew it was not just that she had made up the memory of her turning on the dryer. Wait. She vibrantly pinched herself to make for certain she was not still dwelling in her imaginations of sleep. Nothing. She shrugged, although this was not living by her constant expectations in the slightest. She suddenly heard the extensively bright “ding” to disrupt her heavenly thoughts. Could it possibly be some heavenly being knocking at her door? No. It was just her cheap, old microwave telling her it had finished cooking her oatmeal. She startlingly held a strangely optimistic perspective now, expecting there to be blueberry pancakes or maybe even Moroccan baked eggs when she opened the warm microwave door. No. Instead she got what she should have expected. What she put in there to cook this bewilderingly brighter morning. Oatmeal. This morning was not all for a loss…she wondered what would be outside of her door once she opened it. Once Alora did, the statement of she was not disappointed would be a huge understatement. It would be bigger than her astonished eyes, that is for sure (and that also was an extensively difficult thing to do). She expected a surprise, she was willing to admit, just not this. The sky was so bright that day. She swore she even heard a bluebird singing a tune just to her. She thought bluebirds didn't dwell in this part of her city, occasionally there was the monotonous pigeon that she was past used to. She felt like she was walking down the Red Carpet with the first steps, suddenly tenacious. Wasn't the person she saw down the street who she had her first crush on in her kindergarten class? Elijah...something with his bright blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair. It was also surprisingly easy to walk down the steps in her tight shoes. Especially seeing the greeting that the deaf citizen who usually kept to herself, May Spalding had for her at the end of the steps, "Good morning, Alora! It is a beautiful morning, isn't it? Even though I can't hear anything." Alora finally did stumble a bit with that. She knew that sweet old May had asked her a question but was she supposed to answer her. She shook her head at the simple image of the silly occurrence. Since May still had her eyes that could see, now she was startled. "Well, I guess that not everyone likes sunshine...or bluebirds. I hope you have a nice rest of the day. Whether that be a curse or not to your odd perception." Alora continued to be startled. She didn't bother shaking head at that exchange. It was stupid. Especially seeing that last sentence she heard escape the usually timid, quiet, unable to hear anything, but saw everything lady on the corner of her front walk. She let one more baffling, impossible thought enter her head, more so than the others. She quickly let it, wiz, by as if it were on the wings of the bird she heard, everyone heard singing. Don't be silly Alora. What do you expect?