white noise • Jared Padalecki

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Amelia blinked slowly.  She placed a tentative hand on her cheek, which was flushed hot with her embarrassment. She chewed on her lip contemplatively and picked up the phone.

After staring at the message again (just to make sure it was all real) she paused,  thumbs hovering over her keyboard.

a.sulli: Hey, uh wow! I just saw this and realized that I had drunk messaged you. I didn't even know I was that type of drunk haha.

a.sulli: I really appreciate your advice though. Definitely means a lot to me. And you really don't have to humor me. I'm just a random person invading your messages lol. The fact that you even took the time to reply means a lot

a.sulli: anyways thanks again & sorry for bothering you. I'll get out of your hair now lol

Amelia scrubbed her face with her hands. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the radiator that was pressed up against the tiny kitchen table. She could tell it was making some kind of noise, if the vibrations running through the table were any indication. She just couldn't hear it. It was less than white noise even. Just... nothing.

That was the thing about Amelia Sullivan. She was deaf. Not hard of hearing, just... deaf. She couldn't hear anything. Not children's laughter, not the rustle of leaves in autumn, and not the sound of rain against her windows. It was all... nothing.

She turned her phone off and stood. She didn't really have the time to be wistful and angst-ridden. With a silent grumble, she set off to take a shower and get ready for work.

The young woman immediately shut the bathroom door behind her, and tossed her night shirt on to the black and white checkered tiles. She stretched lazily, feeling like a lazy cat as the bones in her shoulder and elbows cracked.

Amelia hardly spared herself a glance as she swept the curtain aside and turned the water on.

When she stepped into the shower, she immediately slumped against the wall, sighing deeply and just taking a moment to enjoy the hot, steamy jets of water.

She didn't really think of anything as she bathed, just the occasional feeling of nostalgia or wistfulness that occurred when the thought of Instagram infiltrated her mind. The blonde pretended that her thoughts were like the shampoo in her hair. She rinsed them out.

She gave a soft huff and scrubbed her back.

Amelia finished her shower in record time and got dressed, before deciding to tackle her tangled blonde hair with a round brush and a flat iron.

The soft, white blouse was pulled over her head, and it draped comfortably over her shoulders and hips. A pair of light blue skinny jeans soon entered the picture, and Amelia had to hop to get them up onto her legs.

A brown leather purse was quickly filled with a wallet, phone charger, and keys, and then the girl saluted the lone coffee cup residing in her sink. She slammed the door behind her and ambled on to her place of work.

Ah, yes. Work. A place where almost everyone spends the majority of their lives. Amelia was lucky she even had a job. Nobody really wanted to hire college dropouts. Let alone deaf college dropouts. Luckily, she had a friend of a friend recommend her to a lovely little bookstore only a block and a half away from her little apartment.

McAllister's Books on 3rd was a hole-in-the-wall place. It had only three rooms and one large window to its name. The old, squat building had creaky wood floors, red brick walls, and hundreds, maybe thousands, of books within its four walls. They were placed on shelves, stacked on carts, dropped onto plush, velvet chairs, and everything in between. It was a struggle to keep up with, but Amelia made a valiant effort.

She enjoyed working there. It wasn't too terribly crowded, but the little store always kept her busy. Between cleaning shelves, sorting books, and checking people out, she was always on her toes. And Franklin McAllister was far too old to be up and around for so long. Luckily, he had a great amount of trust in his one and only employee, so he spent most of his time sitting in the back room behind his oak desk, sorting paperwork, ordering books, and writing.

Amelia blinked back to the present when the store came into view. With a content smile and a little bit of a flourish, she unlocked the door, flipped the sign to "open" and followed the fluorescent lights to back room.

She signed a simple greeting to her boss after clocking in, and then she did her usual morning chores (dusting and taking stock, namely) before settling in her stool behind the cash register.

All was quiet, and all was well. She had a few hours before people would begin to trickle in.

The blonde glanced at the door to make sure no one was entering. Seeing as the coast was clear, she set out a little calligraphy sign that said "I can't hear you. Please knock on the counter for assistance" before pulling out a large tome and checking her phone again. She immediately took note of the notification from Instagram, and her heart dropped in anxiety. She shifted minutely before opening the app. No DMs. Just a new follower. She hummed softly, unable to decide if she was happy for the lack of messages, or disappointed. Without further ado, she clicked on the side bar to see who it was.

jaredpadalecki is now following you.