Post by aimee on Nov 19, 2009 1:39:04 GMT
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It felt like such a slow night when you didn't have anything in particular to do, or fun, for that matter. Exactly how Aimee felt tonight. It was late, yes, but the whole evening had just dragged on and she was surprised when she had glanced at the glowing red numbers on her digital clock. She hadn't gotten any school work done; didn't matter though, it was community college, and only Friday. She still had Saturday and Sunday. Friday nights, she just wanted to indulge the hedonistic side of herself and just screw around. But she had only recently moved to San Francisco, the neighborhood of Pacific Heights, and had yet to garner any close companions, or any acquaintances at all, that she felt she could call up and go out with. Her Friday had been pretty mundane; she went to her classes, came back when they were all over, made herself some late lunch, or early dinner, and spent the better part of the afternoon tidying up the rooms in the large apartment she lived in with her older brother. He wasn't here to entertain her however; he was out working, entertaining older women.
One spotless kitchen, two tidy bedrooms and accompanying bathrooms, and four loads of laundry later, Aimee had looked up to discover that it was already past 10. The realization that she was a boring individual spending her Friday night doing domestic duties elicited a sigh. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy cleaning. It was great, kept the place clean and ensured that she couldn't misplace anything with the meticulous organization she had implemented into the apartment. But really, she was nineteen years old, at home and quite bored.
Determination to make something of her Friday night overtook her. It was only 10. Her brother wouldn't be back until 4 or 5 in the morning, and she highly doubted she would be out that late. Aimee threw down the box of freshly scented dryer sheets in her hands and made her way to her room. Here she threw open the door of her large closet and changed from lounge wear into something more suitable for public outings than a camisole and drawstring pants. She threw on a white button up shirt and denim cutoffs, pulling on striped knee high socks and slipping on a pair of the nearest shoes. Tucking back hair behind her ears, Aimee decided that perhaps she looked a little juvenile, but as she hadn't really selected a destination, she didn't care too much. Even just somewhere to eat was fine. Lastly, Aimee grabbed her wallet, shoving it inside her purse and took the key chain resting on her desk.
She locked the door behind her and made her way to the car garage down below, maneuvering between the vehicles to her beloved silver Chevrolet Corvette C6, her seventeenth birthday present from her older brother. Aimee pressed the switch of the remote on her key chain to unlock the car and opened the door. She hit the on switch and turned on the engine, giving a quick but thorough glance of her surroundings before reversing out of her space.
Just the fact that she was out on the road was already making her feel better. Aimee stepped on the gas, accelerating, and soon found herself out of Pacific Heights and going down to whatever was south of there. Western Addition, her TomTom on the dashboard informed her. Maybe she could go to Golden Gate Park. She contemplated this possibility and others in her head, drumming her fingers lightly on the steering wheel to the rhythm of a song that played on the radio. Some many miles later, Aimee was reminded by a soft growl that she was hungry. She kept driving, eyes open for somewhere promising to grab a bite to eat. A small diner caught her attention, and Aimee turned into it, parking her car in front and making her way inside.
The diner was fairly empty, only a few other patrons seated in booths against the walls. Aimee sat down in one of the many seats at the counter, setting her purse neatly down in her lap. The waitress behind the counter turned to her, holding a coffee pot in one hand and raising it for Aimee to see. "Coffee, honey?" she asked. Aimee withheld a small grimace. She didn't like coffee, not the strong smell, and the aftertaste, and the breath it left you after you imbibed the liquid. "Could I have an iced tea, please?" Aimee asked politely, her eyes quickly scanning the drink section of the menu before her. "And a Western omelette with hash browns," she added. The waitress nodded and turned to get her drink.
Aimee dug through her purse, flipping aside her cell phone, wallet, a Nintendo DS, and a few tubes of flavored chapstick for a pack of Marlboro Lights. She found her lighter and held it in the same hand. "I'll be right back, I just need some air," she said to the waitress. Purse in hand and cigarettes in her other, Aimee pushed open the door of the diner and sat down on the concrete curb outside. She put a cigarette to her lips and lit it, breathing deep and exhaling, a cloud of smoke exiting from her parted lips. She wasn't really much of a smoker, sticking to her "wuss cigarettes" as her brother called them, and only one every couple of days. She smoked at most a pack a month, maybe longer. Aimee had grown used to the smell of tobacco thanks to her brother's chain smoking, and things had just progressed from there.
A sudden rustling from the bushes surrounding the parking lot’s perimeter drew Aimee’s attention. It wasn’t just this sound that made her look up; the feeling that someone was there had elicited a sort of chill. Aimee flicked ash off the end of her cigarette and took a final drag before dropping the butt and stomping on it. She rose, dusting off her bottom and hands and headed back into the diner, giving her surroundings a final glance. Inside, just as she sat down, the waitress had set down a plate of the food Aimee had requested, as well as a glass of iced tea, a lemon wedge on the rim of the cup. “Thanks,” Aimee smiled, reaching for the ketchup. As she squeezed out a happy face onto her eggs, the incident outside soon dispersed from her mind and she thought nothing of it anymore.
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Tags: [/b][/font] Nathaniel
Notes:[/b][/font] hope it's okay...
Word Count:[/b][/font] 1089
Outfit:[/b][/font] here[/color][/size]
