Shannon.

22 Jul

(I really don’t even know what this is. I just started writing. Maybe I’ll write more about her…I don’t know. )

Shannon popped a chocolate covered coffee bean into her mouth and savored the sweet, bitter flavor combination. She’d found a new favorite. She had exactly two minutes before she left for work, and here she was tasting a box of candy she received for her 25 birthday—something she absolutely didn’t have time for. She grabbed a blue travel mug from the kitchen cabinet and hastily poured from the four cup coffee maker she still had from college. She grabbed her purse from the chair, slipped her feet into a pair of worn out black heels, snatched a light jacket from the closet, and was soon out the door. She had down to a science what she could manage while in the car- painting nails, putting on panty hoes, doing hair, and make-up, all while managing to drive at the same time. It had saved her so much time over the past year, and she’d never been in an accident—yet.

She buckled herself in, turned on the radio to her favorite morning talk show, and pressed her foot to the gas as she roared out of the drive-way, barely missing the garbage can on the curb. Mr. Bordanero, her elderly next door neighbor, stood watering his bushes, perplexed and bemused at the way young people these days are forever rushing around.

Shannon’s morning commute took exactly 20 minutes, if she went on the thru-way and if it moved along relatively smooth. In bad weather, it could take much longer. At the red light, Shannon pulled down the mirror and checked her face—it was sad, sad indeed. She rummaged around for her lipstick and slicked on the berry red color on in two deft movements. Green light. She’d have to wait for the next light to apply the blush. If only I’d gotten up a half hour earlier, like I’d planned, thought Shannon. It would have saved me this morning mayhem.

But Shannon’s mornings were always chaotic. And it always surprised and delighted her that she managed to arrive on time for work every morning. It was her own personal miracle replayed every day. Shannon barely braked in time for the next red light. She felt her heart pumping wildly at the almost accident. But she hadn’t any time for contemplation. Once again, she flipped down the mirror and swooshed on her blush, shadowing it along her cheekbones. “The hair. It just will not do today,” Shannon said to herself. She gathered the wet brown mass up into her fingers and coiled it into a low bun at the nape of her neck. With a hair band fortunately having been tucked into her coat pocket, she twisted it around her hair, securing the simple bun in place. “Well,” she said, “That’s as good as it’s gonna get.” She flipped the mirror up for good this time and turned up the radio.

The traffic crawled along, and Shannon tried not to think about what would happen if she were late for work. For one, it would be the first time—ever. Secondly, it would be some horrible breach in her own belief in herself, that she could at least do one thing right in her life—get to work on time. She was rarely punctual for anything else besides work. Two years ago, when she was just starting her career, she heard a statistic on the radio about how often people are late for work. From then on, Shannon made it a little mission of hers to not be a part of that statistic.

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2 Responses to “Shannon.”

  1. imedicalwatch July 22, 2009 at 4:41 am #

    Good for Shannon. The world would be a better place if everyone popped a few coffee beans.
    You are a good writer 🙂

  2. Justin July 22, 2009 at 6:55 am #

    Good characterization. I already don’t like her. I don’t think we’d get along.

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