Evelyn Parker

Chapter Three

Evelyn was sprawled face-first on her pillow, a tiny puddle of drool seeping onto her sheets. Unfazed by the first rays of dawn tiptoeing over her bed, she dug deeper into her slumber. Thankfully, her alarm clock was intimately familiar with her sleeping habits and was always the early bird of the duo.

BEEEEP! BEEEEP!

She grunted and swatted the alarm into silence. Then, she rolled out of her knotted covers and slumped on the edge of her bed, her feet swinging aimlessly.

She yawned wide enough to dislocate a jaw, stretching her arms, and scrubbing at her eyes. A hint of another headache began to skulk around her temples.

"No," she grumbled. "Not another stupid headache."

A groan escaped her lips as she massaged her temples, standing up only for her vision to descend into a blurry mess.

Fortunately, the throbbing was a mere annoyance, and the pain soon faded into the background.

Evelyn gave her head a shake. As long as the headaches didn't escalate, she would be fine. She reached for her glasses, perched on the bedside table, and slipped them on.

Rolling over, she pried open her bedroom window, inviting the fresh morning air to waltz into the room. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of dew-kissed grass.

"Good morning, Stonebrook!" she hollered, her gaze sweeping over the landscape through her window.

"Good morning!" echoed a voice, causing Evelyn to peep down and spot a postal carrier waving up at her.

.•° ✿ °•.

After donning her usual attire - a burgundy vest, black bowtie, black jeans, and white sneakers, Evelyn retreated to the bathroom for her morning routine.

As she stood before the mirror, her gaze fell on the copy of her novel, Time of the Shield, that she had left on the sink the previous night. Drawing a deep breath, she met her reflection's gaze, her own blue eyes looking back at her.

"You've got this, Ev. You can do this," she self-affirmed.

Evelyn splashed her face with cold water, jolting herself fully awake, and patted dry with a towel. Casting a final glance at her reflection, a confident smile spread across her face.

The young barista donned her work uniform, a simple brown apron, and descended the stairs.

As she adjusted the apron over her head and secured the strings at the back, she heard the familiar patter of footsteps from above. Evelyn awaited Eleanor at the foot of the stairs, ensuring her name tag was in place.

Eleanor descended, clad in a matching brown apron, stifling a yawn.

"Morning, Miss Barnett!" Evelyn greeted, her smile as bright as the morning sun.

Eleanor rubbed her eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her.

"Good morning, Evelyn," she responded. "I trust your slumber was restorative?"

Evelyn's nod was enthusiastic.

"Indeed, it was, thank you," she answered, her grin unwavering.

"That's good to hear," Eleanor replied, another yawn escaping her. The woman's face was peppered with minor cuts and scratches that extended from her neck upwards.

Evelyn's brow furrowed, her head tilting in concern.

"Woah, your face. What happened?" she asked.

Eleanor regarded her reflection briefly, the marks of the night's events on display.