Burn ▹ Ashton Irwin

one

4 years later: March 2nd - 9:04 pm

The newly finished staircase made my shoes make a soft tapping sound as I hurried along, desperate to get out of this uncomfortable attire and stay in for the rest of the night. It was barely nine o'clock, yet I guess you could say I'm one of those people that are easily tired out from even the simplest things. Like, for example, walking the long stretches of busy streets to get from my work to my place of residence. By place of residence, I mean a nicely furnished apartment, lodged in a high-rise that overlooked the beauty of New York City. The walking commute only took about twenty minutes...but after ten hours of working non-stop in a popular coffee shop, it hurts my feet to do anything.

I finally made it up to my floor, and I opened my purse to grab my keys. The brightly lit hallway was empty, but that's a usual thing... considering its late enough to be asleep or early enough to be out for the night. I always feel a little uneasy walking through this hallway each night, but only because it felt absolutely empty every time. Even though my mother insisted I stay in the nicest apartment building in New York, it still felt like no one lived here. Maybe I was just oblivious, or maybe no one wanted to talk to me.

I opened the door to my apartment, flicking on the lights and tossing my keys onto the shiny granite countertop. I set my bag onto one of the chairs that have never been filled by anyone, and turned on one more set of lights before the whole main room was illuminated. The modern decor looked nice at night, which I always thought. I wasn't really sure why I found myself spending time thinking about how the time of day changes the way this place looks to me, but sometimes I just find nothing else to think about. I padded over to the great window, and pulled back the clean white curtains to get my favorite view. Flats that had this view were extra expensive, and the view it gave me was probably the only reason why I let my mother buy it for me when I finally moved out.

This city has a way of looking like it was reflecting the night sky; almost dark, yet dotted with bright lights that would give any human being the illusion of being the stars you gaze at when the sun goes down. My favorite part about this place was the view, because I could stare at it all night. I actually have, one time. I was bored, with the usual 'no-plans' night, so I just sat on the soft sofa and stared out the huge window. I like to look at things that give me a sense of relaxation or euphoria; so in my case, I like to look at cities at night, and the stars in the sky.

I set my phone down on the sofa for now, walking over to the door on the left side of the main room. It led to a big bedroom with a nice bathroom and everything... and even though the bed was too big for just myself, and the air conditioning sometimes got messed up, it had a really nice closet. It held all of my clothes and shoes, which is a lot of things to hold, unfortunately. I made my way to the full length mirror and looked at myself, taking my brown hair out of the pony tail it had been in. I shook it out and let it drape down my upper back, moving onto my clothes. I stripped off the blue jeans and white t-shirt they make me wear, grateful for the warmth and comfort my favorite pair of sweatpants gave me. I didn't like the outfits that the coffee shop made me wear everyday...and I also didn't like the job itself for that matter. I had to talk to people; all day, everyday, it that tired me out even more than the constant cleaning and cappcino making did.

The next step in my night-to-night routine was my face. I walked over to the big bathroom, leaning over the sink to rinse my oily skin off. I'm not sure why, but this city air had a weird effect on my skin. Maybe it was the smog, or all the sweating I did due to all the social interaction I had to put myself through everyday at work. When I was younger, growing up in the somewhat spacious place of Santa Barbara California, I never had such oily skin. Maybe it was the fresher air, or the fancy cleanser my mother always bought me. It doesn't bother me now though, because I just splash it all off each night.