Post by LEILA QUINN BLACKWOOD on Aug 25, 2013 4:20:03 GMT
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entangle within our daily routines
You could say Leila wasn’t a fan of work. Now don’t get her wrong – she loved her job and she was entirely grateful Cierra had helped her get it. See, when Leila was completely new in town and didn’t know a soul, she had had the fortune to run into Cierra. And Cierra, with that giant heart of hers, had put in a good word for Leila at the coffeehouse and well, here she was. Plus, Leila enjoyed working here, especially when Cierra was working. But it was times like these that she hated. For some reason, the coffeeshop was always super slow on a Monday night.
If Leila had to compare it to anything, she’d say the inside of the coffeehouse looked like an old western ghost town from the movies. She was half surprised there wasn’t a tumble weed or two making its way across the floor. The last costumer had probably walked out about a half hour ago, leaving all the tables entirely unoccupied. For all Leila was concerned, it was just her and the machine. If only she just had one of her coworkers – even if it was one she wasn’t entirely fond of – here, then she’d have someone to talk to. But her boss knew Mondays were slow and it wasn’t worth the money to have two people on that night.
She supposed she could text someone and babble for a little bit. It was what typical girls did, wasn’t it? They sat there and hit keys with a speed that her eyes could barely follow and ended up ignoring the costumers because the conversation was more important or some garbage like that. Leila didn’t want to start a conversation with someone though because she knew as soon as she took out her phone, someone would walk in and then treat her as if she was incompetent at her job because they had seen her with her phone. Some people were so judgmental and Leila didn’t feel like dealing with that tonight.
So instead Leila leaned on the counter, one arm resting on it while she drummed on the surface with the other hand propping up her chin. She let out a massive sigh – something she only did when she was sure no one was around – and continued to drum the counter with her finger tips, random taping moving into a somewhat of a resemblance of a song. Leila found her eyes moving up to the ceiling, counting the number of tiles there. And how many hours of this did she have left? Well, Leila was afraid of looking at the clock, feeling as if it’d drag things out even more.
What Leila should really do was bring her camera to work. Then on moments like this, she could just mess around with it. Strange, yes, but at least she wouldn’t be shoved into the stereotypical texting girl mold that she hated so much. Granted, there were only so many things she could take photographs of an only so many different angles before things started getting massively boring, but whatever. It would keep her entertained for a little bit. That was about as much as she could hope for at this exact moment. But since she hadn’t and was still bored, Leila found herself humming to the song she was currently tapping out. Could the minutes move any slower?
TAG; OPEN • WORDS; ENOUGH • NOTES; COME PLAY!
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