you again (but not)

one; of cereal

side:

image: colton kaynes *edit now played by chris Collins yayytyt

video: imagination infatuation- misterwives (i highly recommend you to check them out)

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There are many ways to be waken up at 6:47 in the morning. Among the nicest ways are: to your favorite song, or gently shoken up from your slumber by a partner you wouldn't mind staying up the entire night with. The least popular ways are: one, by an air horn, two, by a horde of stampeding elephants. And now, under my pillow, I groggily formed a new list and something fresh to add to it: the ways juvenile delinquents do it: by shouting in your ear for cereal.

This was, by far, my least favorite way, not just in the list but in all of them. It was worse when this is followed by your five-year-old brother pulling the sleeve of your penguin pajamas (and you in it) toward the flourescently lit kitchen where he proceeded to dramatically fling the door of the cupboard open (and nearly hitting your head in the process) to strengthen the base of his complaint.

So. It was nice meeting you, chance of going back to sleep.

I stuck one hand into the roots of my fringe and pushed my hair back, contemplating a way to get out of this breakfastless ordeal. I couldn't possibly show up at Walmart in pyjamas and a bedhead which, due to previous experience, is not a force to be reckoned with. Standing as straight as I could in my sock encased, tired feet, I conjured up a plan.

Step one, look for other breakfasty alternatives around the house. Since a fuzzy white tomato stuck in the back if the fridge (which might also be a possible killer) wasn't going to make the cut, let's skip.

Step two, head to 24-hour marts that do sell breakfast; or, at least, bread of some sort.

The third step was nonexistent, of course, and so I had to wash my face nine times (once with actual cleanser, eight just with water because so. Tired. ) and at least brush my hair a few times through before bundling myself up in a random coat and driving to 7-11, two streets away.

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It had appeared to me that the nine facewashes before had not taken the freshness of my eyesight into account because I was standing in 7-11 wearing a fluorescent yellow coat that did not go particularly well with a purple, black, white, orange and red pyjama set. (Purple because of the background, black and white the penguins, orange the beaks and red the bowties not on me, but the birds. One must never wrestle a bow tie onto a penguin, or any kind of species in general). I contemplated this as I stood in front of the shelf half filled with the mini cereal boxes (with cereal inside) and the other half filled with Marmite jars with size selections(get your own extra 66% with only $4.60) and some kind of Nutella knockoff that was only, like $2.99 per jar.

Still thinking about the size of spread jars, I grabbed, four boxes of Lucky Charms (all miniature versions as I had to fit the cost into the measly eight dollars I found hiding in the glove compartment of the car) and then, after careful consideration, a six-pack of the mini milk cartons you got in your lunchbox at second grade.

I sent my items to the counter and waited, much more awake now due the very bright lighting inside the store and crossing my arms impatiently. I'd been waiting for at least four minutes and twenty two seconds when a boy appeared from the back door which previously I hadn't realized, what with my decapicitated state and all.

He was hot, I'll give you that, with brown hair stuffed under a snapback and blue eyes currently widened in a stare. His navy blue t-shirt showed broad shoulders and some form of muscle under the red, orange and green apron-thing all workers here had to wear (and be humiliated by, although not widely regarded by the workers themselves but more to the customers - to the public eye, anyway) and his jaw was chiselled like something Michelangelo had to bow down to.

But now I couldn't give less of a shit as a scowl set on my face.

He walked behind the counter and started to scan the items on the metal surface, looking down at them as he did but every once in a while, his gaze flickered back up to me. And - despite of my reluctance to admit it, he was making me flustered in a way sixteen-year-old girls should not be at 7 something a.m, in a mart and in her pyjamas. Yet I was, heat creeping up my neck and settling on my cheeks even though I knew too well no blush whatsoever was blooming there due to my never-reddening cheeks which was in itself both a blessing and a curse.

Soon after the third glance, I couldn't help myself. "What?" I asked, the hoarse voice always intact in the morning-vocal chords warmed up or not-making it sound like a threat, added to the flat pitch at the end of every sentence that happened anytime before eight and it now was a, "What."

"N-nothing." He replied with a stammer I would not associate with someone as good looking as him, but as they say, looks deceive. Which resonated perfectly with his next sentence:

"You just look a lot like someone, that's all." He started to put my breakfast into a plastic bag as I muttered, "So do stunt doubles, but at least they get paid."

Hearing my comment, he looked at me with a smile dancing in his eyes and lifting up the left side of his mouth that made my thoughts scribble up inwardly. "You even talk like her," he said, handing me my plastic bag. He read from the screen of the scanning thingy $7. 76 as I handed over the money. Our hands brushed for a quick moment and I in no way felt any spark as all I could think about were how cold his fingers were and how mine had felt. He tore the bill away from the printer and handed it to me. I made sure to accept the end of the piece of paper instead of touching his hand again this time.

"Like who?" I asked, lingering for a while more before heading back to fulfill my stomach's (and Finn's too, the little whiner) requests. He answered almost immediately, "Savannah Cairney. "

I knew of no Savannah Cairney and was disinterested for only a few seconds before he said the words:

"You could almost be her doppelgänger. By the way, nice outfit choice." He smirked before I rushed out with my cheeks warm in the cooling autumn air.