For the last five minutes, Pear has been going through the records at this local indie store. It's only a few blocks from her apartment. The owner is staring at her from the counter. Most people coming at 8 am are only here to get a coffee and leave.
- Hi, may I helo you with anything? We have a great selection. You're also welcome to just look around.
- Yeah, I'm just perusing. I'll let you know if I find anything. Thanks -By the time she finishes this sentence, she's already going back to the focused perusing.
- No worries - replies the guy, looking a bit surprised by this young women. Though her face is not particularly memorable in any way to him, he notices her long eyelashes and her messy yet straight hair; both long and shiny.
Pear continues to go around the shelves at a very slow pace, carefully examining each records she lifts from its spot. After ten minutes, she wonders if there is a pattern to the ones she's choosing to look at. Goes back to the previous five ones. None of them has faces in the cover, they have some abstract objects, abstract patterns or huge figures and bold and interesting fonts. One of them has no text at all.
She turns onto the next corridor and find herself standing right in front of the store manager. She think about moving and skipping this aisle, but the reason for this movement would be too obvios, as she has been following a strict order. Pear decides to stay there for a minute and leave.
As Pear exits, the guy screams at a medium volume: -Do come back anytime! -He has no idea if she just scared off from coming back by acting like a harasser, of wether she'll know that he doesn't mind that she hasn't bought anything. -I might -she replays. She's aware that her voice seemed inviting or even flirtatious, even tough she didn't mean to. Even though she's never coming back to this store, and even though she didn't recognize one of the bands or musicians in the covers.
Pear walks around the block, its four sides, and then heads back to her apartment, completely exhausted. Her face looks drenched as she enters the apartment. For a second she is so relieved to be safe from the outside world, and two seconds later she hates herself for not forcing herself to eat outside, and for loving loneliness so intensely, but also for hating it as much.
Her bed is a little smelly, a pile of clothes and blankets are forming a small hill on the bottom half of it. This being almost everything that fills the white room. Slowly, she takes off her clothes and puts on her pijama, which is at the top of the bed hill, she then covers herself in the closest blanket.
Pear stays there the whole day, only getting up to open the door for the Uber eats guy. At night, she writes in her journal:
"Still, and still, and still, repeating my days. I did managed to shower and go outside in the morning, I had been awake since 3am and by sunshine I had this crazy urge to leave the room. I regretted soon, but going through some records at a store helped me to calm my nerves. I walked around the block trying to find a place to have breakfast in, but they were all too crowded. I didn't dare, as always. The air was chilly, just enough to get away with a sweater. That's the only think I enjoyed. My dad says I should focus on those parts of the day. That's almost all he says to me when he comes to check up on me. Anyway, after that my day went as always. I already said that. Do I use the word 'always' too much?
P.S. As always, waiting for my dad's money to run out and me having to take matters into the issue of me living.