I took on some feedback I received on my first chapter, and have made some adjustments. Hopefully this version sets the scene a bit more, and gives you a better sense of who Annie is.
Chapter 1: Annie
There it is. That regular dull tone of the alarm
clock, 6am sharp. Just like every other morning. I will press the snooze button
three times, five minutes each, just like I always do. Then I will get out of
bed, drink the same mint tea that I have every morning. I’ll then go to the
bathroom, and look in the mirror. The same long brown messy hair that hasn’t
had a change of style in about 10 years. The same short dumpy body, not massively
overweight, but clearly a lover of carbs. I have a pretty face, so that’s
something. Nothing particularly striking, but pretty. Large brown eyes,
naturally plump lips, clear skin, and a constellation of freckles scattered
across my nose. I’ll weigh myself, groan and tell myself that the diet starts
today. And then I’ll proceed to eat something sugary chocolate bar for
breakfast, forgetting the promise I made myself just moments ago.
Then I will get ready to go to my boring job, where,
like every other aspect in my life, I do the same thing over and over again. I
work in travel insurance. Sounds exciting, it really isn’t. There is nothing
exciting about asking people the same questions over and over again.
“How long are you travelling for?”
“Any prescribed medications?”
“Are you well enough to travel?”
Still, it’s a job, and it just about pays the bills. I
know that that’s more than what a lot of people have, so I try to be grateful,
but I also know it’s a lot less than what some people have.
My life is just fine. I’m happy. Most of the time. I
live in a cosy home which is close to where I work, I have a full time 9-5 job
with a regular salary, not a good salary, but one that I can rely on. My rent
is always paid on time, I have a nice, clean home, food in my belly, a small
group of friends that I can trust. I live alone so I don’t have to cater to
anyone else’s needs. I’m independent, my own person.
But sometimes, I crave something more. I’m 29 years
old, and what really do I have to show for myself. Most people my age are
either settled down with a mortgage and a family, or they’re off seeing the
world, going on adventures. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy. I like my Friday
nights alone in my pyjamas, with a glass of Pinot Blush and a puzzle or a good
book. But sometimes, I’d like someone to finish the puzzle with me, or go on a
spontaneous adventure with. I feel like my life is walking the tight line
between comfortable and mundane. I’m ready for something to shake things up a
bit.
I live in a small town called Meadowsworth. It’s what
some people might call quaint. I call it suffocating. The problem with small
towns is, it’s not the tight knit, supportive community you would expect, it’s
just a lot of old gossips and busy bodies. Everybody knows everybody. You can’t
fart in this town without everyone finding out. There’s only one pub in the
whole town, The Kings Arms. You daren’t go for a date in there (if you can even
manage to find one), because you wouldn’t get a moments peace. People staring
and gossiping, coming over and interrogating you both. Not exactly a turn on.
I look at the time. I still have fifteen minutes
before I have to leave for the office. I sit down and begin scrolling through
Instagram to pass the time, torturing myself with pictures of beautiful people
in bikinis on tropical islands, or in their newly decorated family home,
enjoying a healthy breakfast of yogurt and berries. I sometimes wonder if
people actually eat those breakfasts, or just take pictures to make the rest of
us feel bad, then demolish a doughnut and a cappuccino.
As I’m scrolling through the feed, my phone begins to
vibrate in my hand. I don’t even have to look to see who is calling.
My mother. Gloria.
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