
Originally Posted by
Eriyonai
>Look in the fridge with the urge to scavenge yourself up a breakfast like no breakfast you have ever had before. You deserve it.
Well you've never really cooked all that much before but since your dad isn't home right now... Might as well.
You open up the fridge and frown to yourself. It's surprisingly empty, even if it is the day before your dad goes out shopping. There are a few jars in the side, as well as some mayo and ketchup, but most of it is things you don't even have a name for. Some milk that went bad a week ago, a jar of pickles, and various jams that look like they haven't been touched in years. There are other strange specimens in different drawers, but you can tell without opening them that they're mostly wilted greens of some sort. Not that you could ever tell one vegetable from another other than the most obvious. And then there's the cheese. There are about 12 different types of cheeses laying everywhere, scattered about, some with blue spots that you don't really think are intentional (not that it'll stop your dad), but that's not all that unusual. He usually has at least 9, but you think the past couple of weeks have been a bit hard on him. He obviously let the fridge go if nothing else.
You decide to check the cupboards instead...
In one of them you find a can of diced tomatoes, some dried seaweed, rice, and for some reason an elderly looking onion. There were other things but most of them didn't look all that edible, especially the can of beans you think must have been in there since the 90's. Surprising because you've only lived in this house since 2005. You are beginning to realize why you don't normally do anything in the kitchen...

Originally Posted by
Helljumper
> look in the fridge to make yourself a sammich. And then head back to your room for doodling. Screw school, you're hurt.
Yeah screw this stuff,
you're making yourself a sandwich. Thankfully there's some fresh looking bread on top of the fridge, and you think a bit of cheese, leafy green and mayo would be, if not the most appetizing thing in the world, at least filling. You throw everything together fairly quickly, using the last of a wedge of aged Parmesan and something that looks suspiciously like spinach as well as a few slices of the onion, cut the creation in half and head back to your room. You get changed fairly quickly, then turn on a cop show on Netflix and begin doodling on some scrap pieces of paper as you eat.

Originally Posted by
Askia
> go to school
About half an hour later your alarm goes off again and you step into the bathroom to brush your teeth and put the eye patch on. You grab your backpack and begin filling it with the few books and supplies you had left out. As much as staying home appeals to you right now, your school made it pretty clear that you needed to start going to classes as soon as you were out of the hospital. Besides after being confined to a bed for the past three weeks you really wouldn't mind something to break up the monotony. Plus it'll give you a change to get a good run in, something you haven't been able to do for way too long.
Shutting down your computer you stretch yourself out a little bit. Your muscles feel soft from so little use, and after so long anything careless could strain them, leaving you limping the rest of the way to school. It's something you've dealt with before, pretty much after every winter break, but thankfully you have a good route for getting yourself back into the game. It takes a little longer, but involves a lot less strenuous activity. That, and the fact that even if you're a little worse off than you would be after only three weeks it has only BEEN three weeks instead of two months, gives you the confidence that you'll be back in no time. You step out of your apartment and lock the door behind you before taking in a deep breath and walking down the wooden stairs to the small pathway walled off by tall shrubbery on one side and apartment on the other.
There's a distinct chill to the air, one that speaks of falling leaves and golden orange colors, the deep twilight of night arriving earlier and earlier each day, and the animals finishing their harvests for hibernation. Fog stills all wind and clings to clothes, giving everything a cold clammy feeling while hindering vision and dampening sound. All in all the world feels motionless and dead, giving the distinct impression that you could be the last creature alive in a desolate planet. A silly notion, but one that for some reason gives you immense satisfaction.
You take another deep breath and begin to run.
You know this route like the back of your hand, you could run it with your eyes closed, especially this early in the morning when everything is still and in its place. You learned years ago, to your surprise, how much you can learn about someone just by running past, around, or over their house every day. How the Jenkins couple had had marriage problems for the past few months which you learned by vaulting over Mr. Jenkin's car and seeing how he always parked it too close to his wife's, how one person had taken up wood crafting in his backyard to relieve stress at work a year ago and you'd noticed him gradually get more skilled with it as the months wore on, or when you knocked over a trashcan at one point how one woman had begun trying to lose weight despite how thin she already was. Someone could ask you about any of these people and you would respond with some sort of tidbit of information in a fond tone of voice. It was hard to learn about a person's life like that and not feel at least something for them.
You vault over one last fence and slow yourself to a walk as you arrive at the large field in front of the school, breathing heavily. You walk the rest of the way and step into the front doors of the school into the main hall. Grey light filters in from the frosted glass ceiling, falling on a giant clock made up of tiny intricate stainless steel parts, hanging from one wall. Its hands tick away, telling you that you have 20 more minutes until school starts, and from far away you hear a mass of voices all blending into one another, coming from the lunchroom where most students gather before the day begins.
A woman peeks out of a side door to your left, her hair piled on top of her head in a mass of grey curls.
"Are you Trina Vimmer?" She asks, looking concerned. You recognize her as the secretary type that has spoken to each student before but never manages to remember any of them. You're fairly sure you've spoken to her before too, but the exact memory eludes you.
"Yes ma'am," You respond politely, doing your best to stretch out your legs and arms while remaining inconspicuous.
"Ah, good. I was fairly certain because of the-" She raises her hand almost to her face before stopping herself and you suddenly realize she's been staring at the left side of your own face the entire time and the skin under your patch itches. You get the distinct impression that she isn't going to forget you from here on out. The two of you look at each other for a few silent moments before she clears her throat and continues. "Anyway, since you haven't been to school yet I thought I should give you your schedule."
She hands you two pieces of paper, one the aforementioned schedule, the other a map of the school from above. You mumble a thank you under your breath and she titters back, reminding you of a frantic little songbird with too much to do and not enough time to do it. She gives you one last glance before receding back into the room she came from and closing the door behind her. You look down at the schedule and map.