I hate Monday mornings…
No matter how early I sleep the night before, they always find a way to ruin me.
Today was no exception. I overslept, again. My alarm screamed for at least fifteen minutes before I even stirred. By the time I realized what time it was, I had approximately seven minutes to brush my teeth, throw on whatever I could find, grab a piece of toast, and run. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me to my art studio. To make things even worse, it was raining—not the romantic kind, but the kind that goes into your coat and drips from your hair, each step heavier than the last. If any stranger walked past they would probably see me trying to juggle my purse, coat and umbrella while having my mouth stuffed with a piece of toast.
This little art studio of mine is tucked inside an alley, no one walks down unless they're lost or just bored. Inside, the walls are lined with old books, brush paintings, and hanging scrolls. It smells like paper and tea leaves and something ancient. I spend my days helping with exhibits, designing flyers, and sketching scenes I can't quite explain.
They're just... dreams.
Or memories that don't belong to me.
Today's exhibit was supposed to feature a collection of Tang Dynasty poetry reimagined in modern ink style. My sketches were due last Friday. I was late. Again.
Finally, I ran into the studio, a little wet and totally out of breath. I hate Monday mornings so so much.
One good thing that happened was at least my boss didn't growl me today which I believe is a big improvement. Maybe the passive-aggressive "anonymous" feedback I left on last month's employee survey about their questionable temper actually did something.
Ding~ Ding~ Ding~
The bell over the front door chimed as someone stepped in.
Without looking up, I called out, "Welcome to the Teahouse Art Studio. Are you here for the exhibit? It doesn't open until ten."
A low laugh answered me and the person says "Very good customer service, huh? I am here to look around, then I will go see the exhibit." I froze. This voice. Why is it so familiar? Like I heard it somewhere but I just can't put my finger on it right now.