Mornings

The beeping of my alarm pounded into my skull with horrible uniform. I reached around for the battery operated beast and finally managed to silence its screaming. I sat up groggily, and plodded to my little kitchen to cook a hearty breakfast. And by that I mean toast. I don’t like eating much before working. I sat at my table, fidgeting with a pencil like a baton, writing notes on the scrap sheet of paper in front of me. Deep into intense thought, I twirled the pencil faster.

Bang! A sound came from outside my apartment. In start I jerked my head toward my door.

Snap! I look down as the broken pieces of my pencil. I sigh and throw away the now useless pieces of wood and grab my notes. I stuff them into my work bag and place all of my other necessities in as well. On top of everything else, the last thing I put in, is my gun. I zip up the bag and head to work.