The Rainy Days and Infinite Sadness

Chapter I: An Intangible Electric Feel

Chapter I

An Intangible Electric Feel

I awoke to the sound of birds chirping endlessly. As much as I detested waking up in the early mornings and would enjoy thrashing the nest sitting on top of my balcony's railings, I decided to tone my grumpiness and grogginess down and cover my head with my navy blue comforter.

A few minutes later, a familiar beat started playing from the left side of my bed. I grunted, tumbling and tossing on my bed, helplessly trying to unravel myself from the dark void of the duvet.

There was a knock on the door.

"Brendon, I made food, go eat them." A monotone voice spoke from the other side of the door.

I, still in a heavy-eyed state, mumbled an undistinguishable response, most likely sounding similar to a yes.

A new voice spoke, "Brendon, you better hurry up. Remember Donna's birthday bash?" My eyes opened as soon as I heard 'Donna' and 'birthday bash' I took a glimpse at my bedside clock.

Five o'clock post meridiem

"Donna does not need an event glorifying her coming of a golden age." I said with a blatant tone of annoyance. Despite the circumstances, I unravelled myself from the duvet and rose from my cloud-like mattress. My eyes first rested at the dignity draining femininity leaking through the room's walls, and then I remembered, the walls were pink because of the previous owners of the flat.

"In case you forgot, without her, we would have been living on that dump we called home." The masculine voice said as a-matter-of-factly.

Paying no attention to my slippers, I advanced toward the bedroom door and reached for the door knob. I was greeted by the exasperated facial expressions of my parents. Their usual slouched demeanour, stressed, scrunched up face, and-

Scrunch

They shoved a figure-shaped clothing item directly towards my jaw, it was an item shielded by clear plastic.

I twitched at the contact of the slightly sharpened edge of the metal hanger. Taking a look at the object, I apprehended that the item in front of me was a suit with matching slacks. I don't know where this came from, we couldn't have afforded this, bought or rented.

"Put this on and you better hurry up." I took the suit reluctantly.

"Where did this come from?" I questioned.

My father gave me a blank stare. "You don't need to know."

My mother and father took off, off to change into their attires.

I removed the plastic cover protecting suit and slacks and examined it cautiously, eyeing every single little detail. It was a dark heathery grey. It looked expensive, it was Italian wool, and my suspicions were barred from what I could gather,

This was stolen.

Typical

I opted for a black, wrinkled dress shirt to go underneath; I wore the dark grey suit and slacks that had been heaved by the hanger on my lower jaw, and also I sported black shoes, unpolished and didn't shine, looked roughly like sandpaper. I walked towards the room's mirror, observing my reflection. I am partially surprised that the suit tailored me seamlessly.

Looking at myself on the mirror for the last time, I headed to the kitchen. I saw a plate of two fried eggs with a glass of milk. I sat on the seat in front of the bar countertops, taking the glass of milk and gulping it all in one take.

Placing the glass on where it previously was, I stared at the empty glass, silently waiting for my elders to finish whatever it is they are doing.

The clanking of heels could be heard on the hardwood floor. I looked up to see my mother, wearing an unflattering shade of vibrant red. I am not aware of what kind of dress it is, all I know is that she is too old to wear that. Her shoes were matching to her dress, five inch heels, also a little bit too old for that. She had worn her make up that is comparable to a clown's. It was a demoralizing sight.