Dragon Journal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonjournal) wrote2010-10-02 07:59 pm
dragonjournal) wrote2010-10-02 07:59 pm
Entry tags:
Bingo SPAM #3
Title: Breaking Routine
Prompt: Habits and Routine
Rating: G
Content Note/Warnings: None!
Every morning, the same. Get up, stumble to the bathroom, shower, stumble out, dress, fetch the coffee… Every morning. It never changed. Hadn’t since she’d watched her own mother do the same thing.
She’d become her mother and she couldn’t break free of the cycle.
She even saw it in the way she broke down her year. First of the year was the after Christmas sales, then the valentines. After that, it was tax time, followed by Easter, then Memorial Day. Then, Fourth of July, Labor Day, her birthday, Halloween and then the big holidays.
She saved her vacation for visiting family. She rarely went out with anyone, knowing that she’d have to get up in the morning and do something responsible. Saturdays was yard work, Sunday the day she scoured the house from top to bottom, Monday through Friday paid the bills.
Everything was routine. She’d regimented herself to the point that she couldn’t even dream of breaking free.
Somewhere, in the last year after graduating from school, she’d become a forty-year-old single parent with no life, despite not having a child of her own.
The cursor on the screen blinked at her, searing into her eyes. She closed them, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment. A dream job, the one she’d studied for had practically fallen into her lap. She went every day, never even contemplating calling off.
The weight of the routine weighed on her shoulders.
The cursor continued to blink.
She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest constricted. A sharp pain under her ribs prodded her to shift her posture. Still, air wouldn’t quite fill her lungs.
On, off, on, off went the cursor.
She blinked, watching the thin black line on the screen count out the seconds. Her fingers were poised over the keyboard. The work she’d been assigned was so rote that her mind didn’t even have to be engaged.
On. Off. On. Off.
Another attempt at a deep breath. No dice this time either. Her fingers curled into fists and she put them in her lap. Around her, the office continued in the rhythms that kept them all productive. No one really talked, but the clack of keys filtered over the small dividers.
Off. On. Off. On.
She shoved away from the desk so violently that the back of her chair rammed into the filing cabinet. It stabbed into her back and finally she could draw a deep breath. Her fingers shook as she pulled her purse out of a bottom drawer.
Somewhere, a clock ticked away the time.
Her knees felt like jelly as she pushed herself up. What was she doing? Why was she even contemplating this?
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Before she lost her nerve, she turned away from the blinking cursor and stalked toward the elevators. Her finger jabbed at the button. The door didn’t immediately open and she looked around frantically.
Tick tock, tick tock.
“Where are you going?”
She’d found the door leading to the stairs. They’d be faster than the elevator anyway. She turned to look at her co-worker. Didn’t even know her name. Her hand rose and she pulled out the very sedate bun that she always wore her hair in.
“I’m breaking routine.” She turned toward the stairs. “Tell the boss, I quit.”
Prompt: Habits and Routine
Rating: G
Content Note/Warnings: None!
Every morning, the same. Get up, stumble to the bathroom, shower, stumble out, dress, fetch the coffee… Every morning. It never changed. Hadn’t since she’d watched her own mother do the same thing.
She’d become her mother and she couldn’t break free of the cycle.
She even saw it in the way she broke down her year. First of the year was the after Christmas sales, then the valentines. After that, it was tax time, followed by Easter, then Memorial Day. Then, Fourth of July, Labor Day, her birthday, Halloween and then the big holidays.
She saved her vacation for visiting family. She rarely went out with anyone, knowing that she’d have to get up in the morning and do something responsible. Saturdays was yard work, Sunday the day she scoured the house from top to bottom, Monday through Friday paid the bills.
Everything was routine. She’d regimented herself to the point that she couldn’t even dream of breaking free.
Somewhere, in the last year after graduating from school, she’d become a forty-year-old single parent with no life, despite not having a child of her own.
The cursor on the screen blinked at her, searing into her eyes. She closed them, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment. A dream job, the one she’d studied for had practically fallen into her lap. She went every day, never even contemplating calling off.
The weight of the routine weighed on her shoulders.
The cursor continued to blink.
She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest constricted. A sharp pain under her ribs prodded her to shift her posture. Still, air wouldn’t quite fill her lungs.
On, off, on, off went the cursor.
She blinked, watching the thin black line on the screen count out the seconds. Her fingers were poised over the keyboard. The work she’d been assigned was so rote that her mind didn’t even have to be engaged.
On. Off. On. Off.
Another attempt at a deep breath. No dice this time either. Her fingers curled into fists and she put them in her lap. Around her, the office continued in the rhythms that kept them all productive. No one really talked, but the clack of keys filtered over the small dividers.
Off. On. Off. On.
She shoved away from the desk so violently that the back of her chair rammed into the filing cabinet. It stabbed into her back and finally she could draw a deep breath. Her fingers shook as she pulled her purse out of a bottom drawer.
Somewhere, a clock ticked away the time.
Her knees felt like jelly as she pushed herself up. What was she doing? Why was she even contemplating this?
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Before she lost her nerve, she turned away from the blinking cursor and stalked toward the elevators. Her finger jabbed at the button. The door didn’t immediately open and she looked around frantically.
Tick tock, tick tock.
“Where are you going?”
She’d found the door leading to the stairs. They’d be faster than the elevator anyway. She turned to look at her co-worker. Didn’t even know her name. Her hand rose and she pulled out the very sedate bun that she always wore her hair in.
“I’m breaking routine.” She turned toward the stairs. “Tell the boss, I quit.”
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