Miss Denmark

intimidating

Intimidating building. Intimidating city. Intimidating new job. Intimidating flat, which I lived in on my own. What the hell did I think when I decided to move to New York City all by myself?

I was looking for my pencil skirt. It was mostly that today I just really felt like wearing it. And I'd forgotten which drawer I'd put it in. I would have to clean up later, there was nothing else to do.

Bottom drawer. I riffled through my pajamas and pulled the pencil skirt up from the drawer. How did it even end up there?!

I pulled it on, fast, zipped it up behind, straightened it down my thighs and lifted my face. I could do this!

Dressed I went to the kitchen. I'd already drunk my coffee, when I just got out of bed. I ate my oatmeal standing, put it in the sink and found my stuff.

My flat was tiny.

Dad had been anything but happy about it, but I wanted to be able to pay for it myself, and then they just didn't come bigger. My salary had to cover other expenses too. I wanted to stand on my own two feet, and even though Central Jutland, in Denmark, was a better place to stand on my own two feet than here, I knew myself well enough to know that I had to get away, far away, before I actually did it.

I'd spend a week to work out insurances, supermarkets, making my way around, MetroCard and the way to and from work. I hadn't worked that week. I wanted to have a place to call home before I had work every day.

The flat was fine.

There was a tiny bathroom, a small kitchen and a small living area with space to a small couch, a small coffee table and a TV. My bedroom consisted of a queen sized bed and a closet along the wall, I could only just open the doors. Ten centimeters, four inches, from the bed, the doors opened. It suited me, and I kind of liked it.

I grabbed my bag and was out of the door. I locked the door before descending the stairs. I probably should wear heels, but I wouldn't wear heels on Manhattan. And no way would that even be considered before I knew what I was even doing.