Abigail's POV
Beep! Beep!! Beep!!! Beep!!!!
"Geezz, is it me or does this alarm clock get louder everyday?" I said, asking no one in particular. My hand fumbled across the nightstand until I finally hit the snooze button to shut the damn clock up. The room fell into silence except for my own shallow breathing. I didn't move for a few minutes, lying flat on my back with my eyes half-closed, trying to reboot my brain. The silence of morning pressed on me, interrupted only by the faint chirping of birds outside my window. My eyes adjusted slowly to the rays of light coming from the window, and I squinted against it.
"I really need to make sure that curtain doesn't betray me almost every morning by letting rays of light blind me so early in the morning," I mumbled, annoyed yet smiling faintly because it was almost a tradition now—the sun waking me up before I was ready.
Before I climbed out of bed, I folded my hands together and said a few short prayers as usual. It had become my routine, the first thing I did before touching my phone or stepping into the day. The words calmed me, grounding me, reminding me that no matter what happened, I wasn't alone.
And then, like a spark, I suddenly remembered I was going to see Choley today. A huge smile lit up my face instantly, the kind of smile you can't hide no matter how sleepy you are. Excitement bubbled in my chest. It had been too long since I spent time with her.
With newfound energy, I reached over, picked my phone from the bed stand, and tapped on Spotify. Within seconds, music blasted through my speaker, the beat filling the room, shaking away whatever grogginess I still had. I moved rhythmically toward the bathroom, hips swaying, my bare feet sliding against the wooden floor in playful steps.
I picked up my brush, put some paste on it, and started brushing my teeth, dancing between strokes, tapping my foot to the rhythm. Soon I was done with that, foam swirling down the sink, and then I entered the shower.
Just as I turned on the water, I noticed my favorite song was about to start playing. My eyes widened in delight. I quickly grabbed my shampoo bottle, lifted it like a microphone, and without hesitation started screaming at the top of my voice:
"OHhh, she's sweet but a psycho, a little bit psycho, at night she's screaming oh my my my! Ohhh, she's hot but a psycho, a little bit psycho, at night she's got me screaming ohhh my my my my God!"
My voice echoed in the tiled bathroom, bouncing back at me like I was on a stage. I laughed between lyrics, spinning dramatically under the spray of water, bubbles of shampoo sliding through my fingers.
Then I suddenly realized it was too early to be shouting before the neighbors called the police. The thought of someone banging on our door to complain about my 7 a.m. concert made me burst into laughter. I hurriedly rinsed off, took my bath properly, and then stepped out of the shower, my skin steaming against the cooler air.
I got dressed in a black baggie jean, a pair of white sneakers, and a cute brown crop top that had a little baby bear giggling its butt. I couldn't help but chuckle at the design every time—it was silly but adorable, and it always made me feel playful.
After applying some lip balm, I went to stand in front of the mirror. That was the moment for my mini fashion show. I twirled once, struck a pose, tilted my head, and admired myself. For two whole minutes, I strutted and spun like I was walking on a runway in Paris. Then, I leaned close to the mirror, winked, and said to myself, "Uhhhh, fierce. Hot. Sexy. You're on fire girl." I giggled at my own silliness before finally heading downstairs.
As usual, I met Dad downstairs, already busy in the kitchen. The familiar scents of toast, pancakes, waffles, and other breakfast items wrapped around me like a hug. He was always up before me, moving in his element, humming to himself while flipping pancakes.
"Good morning, Dad."
"Good morning, princess. How was your night?" he asked without looking up, his hands moving effortlessly as he worked.
"It was great. I was even feeling excited before I slept off," I said with a wide smile plastered on my face, unable to hide my joy.
He glanced at me knowingly. "Let me guess—was it because you remembered that you would be seeing Choley today?" he said with a smirk.
And I replied, "Is it really that obvious?"
"Ummm, it would be really hard to miss now, wouldn't it?" he teased, raising a brow.
"Anyways, let's get through today's rush hour together and I'll get going after I eat something."
"Thanks, sweetheart," he said warmly.
"Come on, Dad, it's no big deal," I replied with a grin.
I went to the kitchen, picked up the apron, tied it around my waist, then grabbed a piece of cloth and started wiping and arranging the tables and chairs. The wooden surfaces gleamed under my hand. As I worked, I hummed the lyrics of a song I didn't quite recall the origin of, but who cares—it was catchy enough to keep me smiling.
After I was done, I went back into the kitchen to help Dad arrange the dishes and trays. I switched on the coffee machine so the brewing could begin, the strong aroma already drifting through the air. Then I set the cutleries and napkins neatly on the tables, lining them with care.
Soon it was 9:00 a.m., our opening time on the weekends. I walked to the door and flipped the sign so it now said OPEN. The sound of the bell jingling on the doorframe as it swung back felt like the start of a marathon.
A few minutes passed and customers began trickling in. People came and went, though it wasn't as busy as the weekdays when everyone rushed in like storms before work.
I moved between tables taking orders, notebook in hand. Sometimes I caught myself questioning people's taste in food. Like one fair lady, for example. I asked her politely, "Hello ma'am, what can I get for you?"
She looked up and said, "I would like some coffee, bacon, and peanut butter."
And then she didn't speak again. I froze, blinking at her. Inside me I was screaming: Why the hell would you order only bacon and peanut butter? What happened to the toast??
I realized I had been staring too long, completely blank. Quickly, I forced an awkward smile. "Oh, sorry about that. I will get your order for you right away," I said, scribbling it down before scurrying away.
People kept coming and going so much that I thought I would never have a chance to leave. My feet ached, my arms felt heavy from carrying trays, and I longed for a chair. Finally, once it was 11:30 a.m., the flow slowed down. The door stayed closed, the tables cleared, and I heaved a sigh of relief. That meant I had a small break until lunch time.
I grabbed the closest chair to me and sank into it, my body melting against the wood. I pulled out my phone, glad for the chance to rest, and noticed Michael was online. A smile tugged at my lips. Michael had been my boyfriend for two years now, and I really loved him even though Choley didn't really like him—nor did my little brother. To this day I still don't understand why.
I typed quickly:
"Hey."
He replied almost instantly:
"Hey babe, wassup?"
"I'm good, just wanted to chat you up because I didn't talk to you yesterday since I was busy helping Dad with the restaurant."
"No problem, babe. It's cool," he replied.
"I love you, you are the best."
"Stop making me blush," he replied.
I giggled softly at the screen, typing: "Anyways, I've got to go. I still got some dishes waiting for me in the kitchen." I frowned as I glared at the pile of plates taunting me in the kitchen's zinc, their greasy shine mocking me.
"Okay babe, ohh and don't forget the money I asked you for," he replied.
I sighed deeply, running a hand over my forehead. "But you know I don't have money with me. Fine, I will send it but this is the last time, got it?"
"Thanks babe, that's why I love you," he sent back.
"I love you too. Bye," I typed, and then dropped my phone after I sent the money. My shoulders slumped as I ran my hand through my hair and sighed again.
My eyes turned sharply back to the pile of plates. No more stalling. I stood up, picked up my phone again, and went to Spotify, letting music fill the room. With beats pumping in my ears, I put the phone down, pulled on the washing gloves, and began tackling the dishes one by one.
This time, it didn't take as long as the day before because the pile wasn't as bad. Within a short while, the last plate clinked into the rack, and I peeled off my gloves with a triumphant grin.
Afterward, I took a plate, served myself some bacon with toast and eggs, and devoured it like a hungry beast. The flavors melted in my mouth, salty and warm, and I chased it down with a glass of orange juice. "Oh my God," I whispered to myself, "this is satisfying."
Feeling full and energized, I went upstairs to see Dad. "Hey Dad, I'm on my way to Choley's. Hope you don't want me to get you anything?"
"No honey, thanks," he said, smiling as he adjusted something on his desk.
"Okay, bye Dad," I said, waving at him.
"Byeeee," he replied with a faint smile.
I quickly went to my room, picked a cross bag, and threw my phone inside along with a spare house key, some cash for the cab, and my lip balm. After checking everything twice, I slung the bag across my shoulder.
Then I rushed downstairs, my sneakers tapping against the steps, pushed the door open, and stepped out into the day, excitement buzzing in my chest.