Bloosom
She opened her eyes as the sun’s rays were piercing her already half-open eyelids. It was morning. She awoke at exactly the same time every day, regardless of the day. 6AM on the button. She wondered why she even bothered with an alarm clock.
She had a routine down. Get up, stretch for 5 minutes, get out of the cotton pajamas, take a quick shower for exactly 30 minutes. (She found it amusing that the fastest time she could take a bath would be 30 minutes as she felt the need to really scrub away the dead skin from her body, or in her terms “exfoliate”.) Walk down the steps calmly with cellphone and purse in hand, counting each step careful not to skip one, and plop down for a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruits. A glass of orange juice sits atop the counter directly 11 o’clock of the plate.
The beautiful Isabella, bathe in glorious sunshine, sits alone on the kitchen counter eating her breakfast. She needs structure. She craves structure. She embodies structure.
But Isabella has a little secret. She wanted some freedom. She quietly wishes for that spur of the moment adventure. But she just doesn’t know if she could take it.
This is her story. She wants to define her existence not by the events that unfold before her but rather through the choices she makes.
She has awakened.