Ruth Writes

Jessie walks through the doorway and is pulled back with a sharp tug. Her back twists awkwardly and she turns to see that the pocket of her cardigan has caught on the door handle. She lets out a loud groan and pulls her hands into fists, squeezing her eyes shut and trembling on the spot momentarily. She yanks her cardigan free of the handle and marches to the kettle. She throws her head back dramatically at the lack of water in it. She grabs it and stalks over to the sink to fill it. She clatters the kettle back to its seat and flicks the switch. She moves to the press with the mugs and her socked feet step in something cold and damp. She looks up and the dog is looking back at her from his bed, water dripping from his floppy face.

She stomps around the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea as the dog watches her, tail wagging and water still dripping from his mouth. Her phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s her boss asking her to do something that she already did the other day. She opens her mouth into a silent scream that is not satisfying enough to let go of her negativity. She hears her roommate’s footsteps bounding down the stairs and she pushes her fingers into her temples, preparing for the headache that’s about to be inflicted.

‘Good morning!’ Sophie singsongs.

‘Your dog drooled all over the floor,’ Jessie replies, taking a sip of her tea as she leans against the counter and lifts a foot to show off her soaked sock. Sophie makes a face as she roots through the fruit drawer in the fridge.

‘Oh, somebody’s cranky today,’ she comments. Not in the mood, she politely tells Sophie to shove her morning happiness down someone else’s throat. Her to do list for today is endless and she’s not in the mood. Being a working adult could be just so unfun sometimes.

‘Come for a walk with me before work, the fresh air might brighten you up,’ Sophie suggests. She rolls her eyes knowing exercise would just make her mood worse. She politely declines, feeling a little bad about how short she was before. She pours the rest of her tea down the sink, grabs her handbag from the table and starts rooting for her keys without stopping. She looks up a second too slow and walks straight into the door that Sophie left ajar. The middle of her forehead gains a pulse and her eyes start to water.

‘FUCK,’ she shouts, covering her face with her hand, trying to ease the throbbing by smothering it. Sophie’s cackle rings in her ears and when she removes her hand from her face, Sophie is doubled over at the fridge, laughing loudly. Despite herself, Jessie feels a rumble in her stomach that spills out of her in loud laughter. She laughs too because it feels so much better than how she felt before.