Something is pulling at the back of my mind like a hazy memory. I remember golden eyes glowing down at me, a tall masculine frame, the feeling of large hands pressed against the small of my back. My skin almost tingles with the remembered sensation.
I glance around my empty room with a scoff. There's nobody here, and I don't have time for socializing or men, so that was obviously a dream that my overactive imagination conjured up in my sleep.
I've been working more hours than usual, trying to make as much money as I can so that maybe I can eventually get ahead in this world. Maybe I'm working too hard, though, if I'm getting so tired that I can't remember finding my way home and I'm having hallucinogenic dreams.
It won't do me any good to have more money if I'm too dead to enjoy it. I mentally remind myself to cut down on my hours and start working a more reasonable schedule. Picking up everyone else's shifts is killing me.
I reach for the glass of water that I keep on my nightstand every night. My frown deepens whenever I realize that it's not there.
Damn, I must have really been out of it last night. I dropped the ball on everything.
I chew my lip. I'm seriously kind of worried about the state of my health if I can forget so much. Have I exhausted myself so much that I'm suffering from short-term memory loss? That could be serious.
I pull myself up out of bed and stumble into the kitchen so I can quench my thirst. My mouth is so dry, and I can't stop the moan that escapes me at the refreshing feeling of the cool water lubricating my throat.
I squint at the bright sunlight shining through the kitchen window, thinking that I need to go over there and pull the shades.
Wait...sunlight?
I glance over at the clock and let out a curse when I see what time it is. I'm going to be late if I don't get my ass in gear.
Shit! I promised Maggie I would cover her shift for her today.
I barely have time for a quick shower before I'm rifling through my closet for a clean pair of black slacks and a white button-up blouse. "Damn it," I mutter when I can't find a clean blouse.
My eyes cast about my room, and I finally grab the blouse laying discarded in my chair. That must have been where I flung it last night after taking it off, which is also uncharacteristic of me. I usually put all my dirty clothes in my dirty clothes hamper, but my oversight is actually a good thing today because I have nothing else to wear.
I grimace as I take in my full dirty clothes hamper. I've got to make time to go to the laundromat one day this week. Either that or just invest in an entire wardrobe of work slacks and white button-up shirts, since that's all I ever wear anyway. All I ever do is go to work anymore.
I can't remember the last time I went out with any of my old high school friends. They still invite me to go places with them occasionally, but the invitations are becoming less and less frequent. And who can blame them when I'm always having to turn them down to work? As much as it pains me to admit it, I'm just not like them. I never really was, but they always accepted me into their group.
Our stark differences only became more pronounced once we all graduated, though. They all went off to college while I had to go straight into the workforce to make sure that I would have enough money to take care of myself.
That's just the lot of an orphan, I guess. Once you turn eighteen, the state kicks you out. Of course, I'm not complaining or feeling sorry for myself. I always knew that would be my lot in life, and that's why ever since I became old enough, I started working part-time jobs after school. I've been saving up money for a while so that I would have a little nest egg to get me started when I would have to get out and leave the group home and get my own place.
I've almost completely gone through my meager savings, though. Rents in New York City are ridiculous. I barely have enough left over to pay my electric bill and buy a bit of food every month—much less to go out partying with old high school friends.
I was never particularly close to any of them anyway. I was always that girl who could fit in and have friends whenever we were in a group, but it's not like I had a number one bestie or anything. I was always more of a loner.
That still doesn't make it any easier to know that I'm drifting apart from my old friends and my old life. That's what happens when you grow up, I guess. You go your separate ways.
Maybe things could have been different if I'd been able to go to college too. I'm sure I had the scores to get in. I just don't have the funds, and I refuse to start my life off in humongous debt.
Which is why I'm busting my ass to make ends meet and wearing myself out so much I'm scrambling to get to work on time this morning.
Somehow, I manage to get dressed and out the door in record time.
I glance back at my coffee pot longingly, but I tell myself I'll just have a cup when I get to the restaurant.
I'm nearly sprinting to try to make it to work on time when I suddenly begin feeling little pinpricks on the back of my neck. A shiver runs up my spine, and I can't resist the urge to turn around and glance behind me.
Nothing but a street filled with cars and a sidewalk of other people like me in a hurry to be somewhere.
I shake my head and start walking again. I've only taken a few steps when I feel it again. That pin-prickling sensation. I turn and look behind me again.
While there are plenty of people bustling along the sidewalk like me, no one is paying me any mind. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched.
I let out a nervous laugh. I'm being ridiculous. I got more sleep last night than I've gotten in a week. You would think I'd be feeling more refreshed—not paranoid and jumpy.