Professor C (camren)

7 - Intentions

Lauren was running around her single bedroom apartment in her matching black lace underwear that provided a resounding contrast to her porcelain skin. She was running with a purpose but seemed to have been without direction. Straightening iron in one hand, she was searching for a fine-bristle comb that she was sure she left in the living room table after she used it to brush lint off of her pants the other day.

Oddly enough, she was calm and was quite simply in a rush, considering she absolutely despised being late. Lauren had always been punctual unless she had no intentions of leaving her cave, which seemed to have been the case for at least eight years.

The abnormal peace of the fast-paced situation came from the thought that she still had enough time to prepare until Darnell popped in.

It was a little over one in the afternoon that Saturday, the day of the party. The psychologist had been darting from the kitchen, to the living room, to the bathroom and then the bedroom; she even contemplated on going out into the balcony. She'd been jumping over piles of clothes, pieces of paper and shoes scattered about while her damp hair had been sprinkling droplets of water as if she was a raincloud.

She really had to clean up soon. To give her a little credit, she did clear the living area and the kitchen just to accept a guest just in case she needed to - Darnell, to be exact.

"Ha! There you are!" She exclaimed, spotting the coveted comb beneath her couch. Butt raised in the air and legs tucked beneath, her shoulders and one cheek were flat against the carpeted floor as she reached for the item with a slithering hand. "Come here. Come here." She mumbled repeatedly in a squeaky strangulated voice, grunting in the process as the pressure in her chest increased due to her position.

The satisfied grin on her face as soon as her hand made contact with the comb was beaming of pride. It was too youthful and full of life, something her facial muscles had barely felt until the semester she met Pebble but wasn't enough to chase the darkness away. Traces of her sweet demeanor had been devoted to children and the most innocent life forms.

Sighing contently, she adjusted to sit on the floor and lean back onto the side of the couch to level her breathing. Her chest was still heaving when she'd push herself up and scrambled towards the bathroom where her blow dryer was waiting for her, plugged and ready to go.

It took an hour and a half to straighten Lauren's thick head of jet black hair plus the 30 minutes to dry it completely. Figuring she still had time to spare, she sauntered over to the kitchen and heated some blueberry bagels as the nerves had caused an uprising of acid in her belly, disintegrating what she had for lunch.

Yup, she was beginning to feel it and the tremors of her crawling anxieties were messing with resolve, shaking it into a pile of rubble.

Bare feet perched on her old coffee table and elbows on her knees, Lauren absentmindedly munched as her thoughts ran rampant. She was staring out into the sliding glass door that lead to her balcony. It was a nice day out, the sky was blue and the clouds were forgivingly wispy; a hot enough temperature that would allow buds of flowers and leaves to poke out, and encourage resilient grass to unearth, in time for the looming spring.

Lauren could hear the sound of children playing with each other, laughing at whatever little debacles they stumble upon or just because they were having the time of their lives. The sound of cars passing coursing along the roads were gentle, a speed just right to evade any sort of accidents involving uninhibited children, indulged in their juvenile glee.

The damn suburbs always shoved her down in the dumps and she still could not figure out why she had not moved out.

As it turned out, thinking was bad for Lauren. Her thoughts were immediately shifted to doubts as questions arose in her mind, clouding her rational judgment. She was obsessing over the things that could go wrong.