Thursday, November 1, 2012

Post for hitrecord.org

http://www.hitrecord.org/records/1022737

Knock 

           The blinding sun reflected off of her face as Emily Osment pulled the creamy-white curtains to a close. It was the first day of January, a new year. A clean slate, she thought to herself as she pulled her golden locks into a messy pony tail and sighed—time to clean up. As she struggled to get out of bed, she opens her bedroom door and looks around her apartment. The house was trashed, the celebration of New Years the night before turned out to be a success. All of the guests arrived, there was plenty of food and drinks for everyone, and the colorful decorations looked absolutely elegant, complimenting her large, modern New York City abode.

But no matter how the party turned out, how much fun the guests had, how much she tried to take her mind off of Joseph, it seemed impossible. She wished things with him would go back to normal. It had been just a couple of weeks since the split, although, she felt like it had been months; long and agonizing days, picking at her slowly and painfully.
She wiped the sleep off of her eyes as she walked past the living room and into the kitchen. Carefully, she put on a pot of coffee and grabbed a sponge. After wiping down the counters, the almost-silver granite glittered in perfection. Finishing off the kitchen she threw the red plastic cups in the garbage filling it to the top and swept the remaining crumbs of junk food off the floor.
The living room was worse, red cups covered the floor, some still sitting on the furniture half filled with liquid. Bowls of snacks in various spots around the room, some spilled over making even more of a mess. Torn down streamers and popped balloons cornered her favorite room of the house, layering the extent with distress. Emily let out a large sigh, shutting her eyes and holding her head in hopes to take away the ache. “Everything’s a mess without you,” She whispered to herself, referring to not only her trashed house, but her twisted and broken heart.
Emily continues to clean, slowly but surely recognizing the rug and uncovered furniture. She almost enjoys the silence and being alone. Suddenly, she hears a faint knock at her door across her apartment. Confused as to who it could possibly be, she questions if she should even bother to answer; probably a friend of a friend coming to search her apartment for a misplaced clutch or phone they lost the night before. She continues to clean; hoping whoever it is will just go away. Then, another knock, “Emily?” she heard as she looks up from her broom and toward the door. The voice is familiar and warm; masculine and seems concerned. She slowly leans the broom against her couch, now curious as to who is at her home. The door peeks open, the person behind it becoming impatient, he lets himself in. Emily looks down at the hand on her doorknob as he turns it to enter and without question, realizes who it is.

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