The blaring 5:30 a.m...

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The blaring 5:30 a.m. alarm startled Marie from her sleep, but she looked forward to the sounds as it provided her relief from restless sleep. She heard of people feeling refreshed when they awoke, but she knew that would never be her. Marie walked to her kitchen through her small but stylish apartment with all white marble counters, Colombian artwork lining the walls, and white fur rugs covering the scratched old maple wood floors. She sipped her steaming cup of black coffee, ate her banana and slice of grain toast while checking her social media and emails. Her simple but daily routine was the only way she could remain sane. Atlas, a 120 pound Siberian Husky who was a pity present from her father following her mother’s death, was just beginning to stir. Her father has been giving her pity presents since she was 18 because of the guilt he felt in playing a role in his wife’s murder. Marie accepted the gifts anyways and found great companionship in Atlas while living alone the past 4 years. Marie strapped on Atlas’ black leather collar, put on her black fur Burberry coat, and carried down the ten flights of stairs.

Marie checked her apple watch. It read 6:35 a.m. She planned out her walk pass the crummy Mexican place that lacked total authenticity, across the railroad tracks, and then back to the apartment past the Police station that was nothing more than a dump with overweight men, doing nothing, which seemed to Marie as what everyone did around here. She would return by 7:30 and prepare for her day of dealing with aggravating middle aged moms, demanding for non-fat, skim milk lattes. She knew she needed to leave this town soon. Before Marie walked out of the lobby, she saw Coco.
Marie often thought that Coco was a woman full of life, but in this moment Coco was blankly staring at the floor, her mascara streaking her face. Marie ran to Coco desperate understand what made her so upset, and Coco, slightly audible, muttered, “Mr. Evans is dead.”

Marie ran outside to find  George who would have answers, and he stammered upon seeing her, “He’s dead Marie, I’m sorry.”

In an instance, Marie ran with Atlas to the park to escape, and called her dad to inform him of the horrible news about Mr. Evans.

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