Graffiti Girl // Michael Clifford

|| 30 ||

'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable. And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl. So cradle your head in your hands, and breathe... just breathe, oh breathe, just breathe. 

«Breathe (2am)» Anna Nalick*

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"Hey, I have to drive my dad to the unemployment office so I figure we can just hang out there for a bit," Andi says as I throw my backpack on the floor in front of the passenger seat, haphazardly because schools out till the fourth term and I can. "I hope that's okay. He's gonna take a cab home, but I told him I'll stay the night since I'm there anyways. I'll take you home later, whenever you want."

"Uh... yeah, that's fine," I say and slam the door behind me.

"Thank you! I would take him another time, but I've been trying to get him to go for months! He finally agreed to go today, so I can't pass that up."

"Of course. No problem," I assure her. I'm not going to tell her no. I can handle hanging at her dad's house for a bit if she needs me to.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! It shouldn't take too long and I figured you could just hang in my room until I get back."

"Wait, I'll be there without you?" I ask, not sure if I understood that.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be better. That way, you won't have to ride in the back," she explains, brushing off the fact that I have yet to even meet her dad, and now I am hanging out in his house by myself. "And it won't take more than thirty minutes, I promise."

"Won't your dad mind me just lounging around his house alone? He doesn't exactly know me."

Her expression changes to almost disgust within seconds and she scoffs a laugh. "No. He won't care, don't worry."

"Well, I guess I'll be fine without you for a bit."

She nods and keeps her eyes ahead of her. I settle somewhat awkwardly in my seat, not sure if I said something wrong. I did want to ask her about her dad's job--or lack of--but I'm glad I decided against that.

The car ride is short and we are soon pulling up in front of a complex a few stories high.

"Make yourself comfortable," Andi says. I walk further into her room.

It's fairly small with just a mattress lifted a few inches off the ground on wooden pegs and a few stuffed animals, a window with the screen popped out and resting on the floor, and a small closet with no door. The walls are covered completely in blankets. They're not like the ones you usually snuggle up with, though. But they are pinned up in different angles and directions so that they hide any painted surface. They are all either black and white, or some have some dark blues mixed in. There's one that looks like a star map; one with a kinda creepy looking owl; a circle pattern thingy. Kinda cool how different but similar it is from her room at home.

"I like it," I say, gesturing to the walls.

"Thanks," she breathes. "We can't paint since it's a rental, but I would sooner live in a box than a room with four faded crème walls."

"Good to know," I chuckle. I walk over to sit on her bed, seeing no where else to rest. She looks down the hall, most likely seeing if her dad's ready or not, before mulling over to join me. She flops down on her back.

"I'm tired. I wanna sleep," she groans.

I lay down on my stomach beside her. I pick up one of the stuffed animals by her pillows. It's a cheap looking bird thing. It's made out of canvas or something and basically painted on feathers consisting of weird shades of purples and blues. It's actually a pretty weird looking thing--like something you'd find in an antique or thrift store.