Fine Lines

1 ✰ Doors Yellow Broken Blue

You wake up in your cold, empty room. Glancing around you notice a bundle of clothes in the corner. You rub your eyes, trying to get the blurriness to go away. Reaching for your phone, you go to check the time. 07:12. You frown and throw your hands down on the bed, nervously thinking about your audition later that day.

After a couple minutes of contemplating life, you climb out of your warm, double bed and make your way to the bathroom. You quickly brush your teeth, wanting to get rid of the nasty taste in your mouth. You follow your skincare routine and toss on your daily amount of makeup. Mascara, blush, and concealer was all that was needed, so you were done in no time. Your hair was curled yesterday evening, courtesy of your anxiety, so all you had to do was run a brush through it.

You rush to your closet, grabbing the outfit you chose yesterday evening. Black leather pants paired with a white tank top. You wanted to look presentable today, so you went all out with it. You added your jewellery: a necklace with your initial, some rings, and hoop earrings.

You close your eyes and take a moment to yourself. Nerves. That's all you felt. The audition you were about to go for would change the course of your life. You shake out your hands and crack your knuckles, trying to take out your anxiety in any way possible.

Sighing, you open your eyes and make your way towards the bedroom door. You step over stray t-shirts that are littered on the ground and reach towards your yellow door. At first glance, the door looks like it radiates happiness. However, close up the door has chips broken off and showcases the once blue door. The door is yellow but has broken blue, just like you. You constantly try to radiate happiness to others, but your facade occasionally slips and shows how sad you truly are.

You open the door and glance around the solemn hallway. Family photos hug the pale lilac walls, showcasing a somewhat happy family. The creme crowning at the bottom of the walls is cracking and leads you to the grey, wooden staircase. You hold onto the creme bannister, not wanting to lose balance because of the nerves that rack your body.

The main floor of the house was dark because of the closed blinds and turned off lights. You look around the room and take notice of your parents bag's absence, a secret telling they are no longer home. You shuffle to the kitchen and grab an apple. Not that you were hungry, but because you knew you'd need something in your stomach to get through the day.

You check your phone and realise that if you want to be on time you would have to leave immediately. Racing to the front door, you grab your tote bag and throw on your white converse. The cracked white door reminds you of your anticipation and nervousness that you were previously feeling. Stepping out of your house would embark your new journey, and you were ready.

Opening the door, dark grey clouds scatter through the once baby blue sky. Wind rushes through the outskirts of a busy city, whipping at your hair. You furrow your eyebrows, confused by the sudden weather change. Just last night was a gorgeously lit sky, with nearly no clouds in sight.

You shake your head and rush towards the bus stop, taking in the frantic people around you. Businessmen and women rush around, probably trying to make it to the city before rain begins to fall. You wait impatiently for the bus, trying everything in the book to keep calm. You put in your headphones and play classical music to ease your wild thoughts. Though, the music barely helped calm you down. Before you could try a new method in calming yourself down, the bus arrived.

Waiting for the people to get off, you tuck your headphones back into your tote bag. You brush off your pants and crack your knuckles before approaching the bus. You show the bus driver your pass as they nod and send you on your way. The bus driver looked old and done with their job, having many frown lines and wrinkles littered around their face. Their brown eyes were sunken in and their hat covered the style and colour of their hair.

You find an empty spot at the back, quietly sitting down before the bus takes off. Across from you was what looked like a 17 year old girl. Her hair was a pastel pink and hung neatly around her face. Her hair reached to about her collarbone, showcasing her impressive amount of chain necklaces. She had a nose and lip ring and her face was pushed into a look of concern. She had a black long sleeve and black ripped jeans adorning her body. What stood out the most, though, was the neon green platform heels she had on her feet.

The bus jolts as it starts on its way to the city. You think of the few places you will have to go once at your stop. While thinking of the various more places you will have to go, you realise something. You forgot your guitar.

A wave of fear and anxiety cradles your body and rushes you with a cold sweat. Your hands begin to shake and your breathing starts to pick up. The girl in front of you snaps her head up and concern laces her features.

"Hey... are you okay?" The soft whisper of the pink haired girl brings you out of the panicked state you were in.

"Yeah, uhm, I just forgot something important at home." The words come out raspy because of the extended period of time you haven't talked for.

She nods her head and looks at her phone, deciding to leave the conversation there. You wipe your hands on your pants, sick of the wet sensation covering your palms. Glancing to the left of the vibrant haired girl, you take notice of the empty seats lining the bus. This observation seems a little odd to you, considering lots of people take this way of transit to get into the big city.

Before you can panic more about your missing instrument, or observe more around you, the bus stops at the place you need to get off at. As you go to stand up, the bubblegum haired girl gets up to leave as well. You wait for her to get a few steps down the aisle before you stand and make your way to the bus door.

You thank the bus driver, earning a furrow of a brow and a tight lipped smile from the driver. New Yorkers don't normally thank those around them. You step off the bus and glance around the city. Letting out a loud sigh, you continue your way to the place that will determine your future.