𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ━ transformers

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

When I wake up, something feels off. I automatically know it's not going to be a good day. I slam my hand on the alarm before it could start bleeping madly and pull myself out of bed, being careful to mind Alfonzo. I throw on my FoodMart uniform quickly, throwing my hair up into a ponytail.

The sky is still dark when I walk downstairs to grab my usual banana from the bowl on the island counter. Glancing at my wristwatch, I see that it's only half past one and I'm not supposed to be at work until three. I sigh, hating that no matter what, I can't sleep through a full night.

Oh well, I suppose. Beats being late to work every morning.

I grab my keys, shove my phone, along with my wallet, in the pockets of my khakis, and throw a jacket over my magenta FoodMart shirt, tucking my banana into one of the pockets, zipping it and waltzing through the door.

It's chilly out, I notice, as I take a step off of the porch. The moon is full tonight, gleaming down at me along with a million, twinkling stars. I pause and allow myself a small grin, breathing in the night air, the calm atmosphere relaxing to me.

During this hour, there's no commotion, no chaos. It's serene, peaceful and you can hear the crickets chirping in the dewy grass, the coyotes howling for their packs. It's as though everything is at a stand-still, like the world has stopped turning, allowing us to revel in the magnificence the night brings us.

I open my fence, shutting it behind me. As I make my way down the hill where my house is located, I start to feel uneasy, neck prickling uncomfortably. It feels like there's a pair of eyes piercing right through me, calculating like whoever it is, is waiting to attack me.

When I make the decision to look back, to glance up at the hill and see if there's anyone actually there or if it's just my imagination playing tricks on me, I spot a dark figure standing at the Lennox's house, right beside the truck. My heart races and I hurriedly turn around, picking up my pace.

I know how this goes; I let my guard down, whoever wants to murder me makes a run for me, and then I'm murdered and everyone finds my remains chopped up and scattered over the city.

Dismissing the pain in my back that has been flaring since yesterday, I let my legs pick up more speed, going into a steady jog instead of a fast walk. When I can still feel the person's presence, I start sprinting, my Converse slapping against the concrete as I bob and weave to FoodMart.

It's only when I get into the city that I notice that no one seems to be following me anymore--the looming figure and piercing gaze have suddenly disappeared--that I probably just look like a lunatic running the streets of Tacoma in the middle of the night.

I'm panting by the time I enter the air-conditioned safety of the grocery store. There's sweat trailing down my back and I take my jacket off, heading to the back room. Glancing at my watch, I find that I still have a bit more time to wait out before my shift really starts--a shocker since it takes me almost an hour to get here on a good day. I sling my jacket on the coat rack and reach for the pocket, hungering for my banana.

The pouch is empty, I find upon search. Must have fallen out when I was running. I pout. There's nothing open at this time except for a diner all the way across town and FoodMart, of course, but Jess, my supervisor, says that since I've only been working here for a little over two months that I can't snag free supplies. And I'm not going to pay three dollars for a banana that's not even that appetizing. So it looks like starving is my only option.

I throw my head back onto the couch with a groan. Jess comes in minutes later and shakes her head at me.

I hate Saturdays.