Dark Paradise

The Art of Ramen Noodles

The Art of Ramen Noodles

Adriana's P.O.V.

    The incredibly tiresome week I was harshly forced to endure strolled by in a speedy manner, although it was exceedingly hectic due to the pounds of schoolwork hurled at all the students. Morgan and I have been paired up in order to construct a powerpoint presentation about comparative economic systems. Morgan being the gentlemen he has always been, note the immensely heavy weighted sarcasm, had me beg to schedule a time with him to work on our project.

    I would've gladly accepted working on the presentation alone and marking down Morgan's name on it along with mine, but the teacher was smart enough to have us literally record each one of us as we work because she knew how most of her students truly were deep down.

The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and I was groaning. Another day would be spent with the irking devil himself. Sorrow laced my thoughts and I couldn't help but pity myself. Rolling out of bed, I aggressively stomped towards the bathroom, pulling the faucet open and splashing the ice cold water on my visage. The water droplets rolled down my soft features and landed right on my shirt. Continuing my journey, I halted right in front of the chipped wooded closet I possessed and gazed at the clothing I never imagined I'd ever wear. Paying no attention whatsoever to the short dresses and skirts, my peripheral vision searched the casual attire section. Grabbing a pair of dark coal like leggings and a loose knotted grey sweater, I stripped out of my current clothing and replaced them with the new ones.

    Strolling towards the mirror, I ruffled my hair and allowed it to be free. Gazing at my reflection, a thought soared through my brain. Snatching the mascara bottle from the drawer, I strongly gripped the mascara wand and initiated on coating my dark lashes. As soon as I finalized the mascara application process, I gazed at my reflection once more. 'Makeup surely did wonders' I thought to myself.

Hopping right inside the immensely sized vehicle which was a form of public transportation, I waited ever so patiently
until arrival would make its horrid appearance. Halting right in the heart of the magnificent Manhattan, I allowed myself to gradually enter the polished gates of the hotel. The memory of once being here washed over my thoughts, recalling the path towards his penthouse. Clutching my heavily weighted bag slung over my shoulder, the elevator door chimed open. Strolling casually towards his suite, I terminated my steps as soon as his door was facing me. My balled fist softly knocked the wooden door, awaiting for his presence to make an appearance. Approximately two minutes have passed without a sign of Morgan.

The corner of my ocean blue eyes caught the sight of a slightly open door that I have been pounding on for the last couple of minutes. Face palming at the stupidity that raced through my veins, I pushed the door open and slowly stepped in.

"Morgan?" I hollered for him to come out of wherever he was hiding in. Receiving no reply of any sort, my mentality proposed an undefinable offer; raid the fridge. And so I did as I was told. Skipping with an exceeding quantity of joy masking my soul, I flung the refrigerator door open to only ogle a vacant, dimly lit compartment. With a dramatic sigh, I navigated the cabinet that overflew with a life supply of Oreos. Harshly ripping the plastic bag with all of the force I possessed, all of the black and white painted cookies bolted right out of their home and safely landed on the porcelain floors.

'One

Two

Three

Four'

The forbidden and terrifying number referred to as five has yet to emerge, therefore, granting me the permission to devour all the cookies planted on the ground. Mustering the fastest pace I could ever imagine possessing, my lengthy arms extended towards the ground, saving every single beauty lying there. Bending in order to gather them all, a delicately alluring tone of voice erupted.