She ran her fingers across the keyboard, picking at the dust in between the g and h key. She should probably get it cleaned. She waited. It seemed like she was always waiting on something. Mac was her best friend now…(Yes, Mac as in her computer). She laughed to herself as she clicked on the cat video she had already watched three times. Talk about a funk.
She had never felt like this before. Each morning was the same. She would wake up and feed her cat and then run to the nearby coffee shop for a $4 coffee. She could only focus once she had that. Then she would go back to her fourth floor apartment with its two curtain-less windows and just sit there. She spent the majority of her time staring at Mac. She had her Microsoft Word open constantly just in case an idea struck her, but for the most part she listened to her music and read funny articles all day. Even Facebook had become a boring, repetitive part of her day. After scrolling through her timeline fifty times already in the last two days, it seemed pointless to keep doing it.
Those are all of her friends back home in Alabama though. She didn’t have one friend in New York…unless you count her doorman Jerry. Right now she did count him.
She could make friends, but she didn’t know where to start. She didn’t know anything about the city, and she had spent all of the money her grandparents had left her on the next two year’s rent. So how does a broke, Southern girl make friends in a city she had never even visited before moving there? People looked at her like she was stupid when she opened her mouth to order food or say something. She felt like she was never going to fit in here.
She smirked thinking about the strings she had to pull to live in NYC. Her parents were against it from the start, as were her friends and boyfriend (ex). No one understood it; no one understood her. She finally cut a deal with her parents- give her two years in NYC. Two years to write and see if she could make it. If she failed she would move home and admit defeat.
So here she sat. She had not typed a single word in seven days. She wondered if it was a good idea, or if it was going to blow up in her face. Seriously seven days?! She knew everyone was secretly rooting for her to fail. She shook her head. It wasn’t a bad idea. She had to believe that.
She looked around her bare apartment. The bed, the dresser, the lounge chair. That was it. She had left her house in ‘bama full of nice things to move to a run-down apartment on the Lower East Side that charged way too much. A bowl of Ramen again for the twelfth meal in a row, and she still doesn’t regret the move. She knows it’s what she had to do.
She was going crazy though. She stood up and went to her closet. In the weeks since her move, she had forgotten about how much she loved running. If she was being completely honest she was afraid to run in the middle of the city. She was worried she would get lost. Whatever- enough is enough. She laced the shoes up and grabbed her headphones and key.
She turned her headphones up all the way and took off out of the door of her building. Time to get to know this city.