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Short and Mundane (Thread)

Write about your day. Doesn't need to be "beautiful" or "thought-out".

My arms are glued to my sides. I can feel the tens of thousands of hair strands on my head whipping in the wind. Tonight’s getting cold, and my jacket isn’t thick enough. As I pace my feet to the neon lights, my hands are pried from my pockets, and I grasp the cold, metal door handle. The supermarket sends a mixture of odors into my nostrils: fresh vegetables, fish, meat, and Pine-sol solution. My stay is held short. I only take a minute or two to get a job application from the customer service desk. A wide smile reveals straight, white teeth. The lady seemed nice as she handed me the paper that could symbolize extra food and less college tuition to worry about. I exit into a cold sea of raindrops. It’s pouring.
I stand in the rain, waiting at the bus stop. My head is pelted with water, deflating my hair so that my lips are able to kiss the ends of my bangs. Having my body drenched, a sense of catharsis crawls into my skin. The bus comes. I step into the cold, air conditioned vehicle. I take a seat near the back. After another stop, a young woman boards the transport. She seems to only be a year or two older than me. She looks attractive. Her skin is revealed pale in the fluorescent light. She’s wearing a grey cardigan, a black, frilled blouse, and some jeans. Oh, and flats. Flats… I’m very fond of flats on women. They’re so much better than those gladiator sandals that seem to be all the hype amongst adolescent females these days. She takes a seat across me. I glance at her face for just a moment, and look down at her soaked feet. It’s a shame that I only get to enjoy the eye candy for just a minute or two. As I lift my body upwards, I make eye contact with her. Her eyes are as dark as her dripping wet hair. I give into imagination, and fantasize holding her slender, naked body against mines. The bus stops, and I take my exit from lust.
Opening my apartment door, I flick the lights on to reveal emptiness and warmth. My wet jacket is tossed onto my bed, and I enter the kitchen to make some coffee. Eight or nine spoonfuls of sugary white are poured into the black water. Adding milk, it slowly turns a nice caramel brown. I rest myself into a chair. Taking small sips, my body gradually warms up. The humming fan of my laptop is the only sound to penetrate my ears. Essays, essays, essays. It’s gonna be a long night.

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