Glitter
I don't mean to be a bother
I was bored and rearing for classes to start by day two.
I'd gone through almost all the interesting haunts my scraggly looking map promised, found most of them either too full, too confusing or boring and had resorted to pining my time away in my room, typing away at my laptop. Understanding that trans-international calls would cost me an arm and a leg to make, I'd made a deal with our neighbour down the hall. Viktor promised to print and deliver my emails to Papa and help around the house if I agreed to one date with him when I got back. Viktor was a sketch artist - haunted and darkly handsome - who took the same art courses I did. Conincidentally enough, we'd also gone to the same high school. He had been my date to our senior year Winter Dance, and I'd even fancied him my boyfriend the few months after. It'd just been my luck that Viktor couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to warrant my full trust so I broke it off. He got it into his head that he was in love with me the moment I told him never to call me again.
I'd just about had it with his constant prattling when I got the Baltimore scholarship and realized that I could work his projected feelings to my advantage. I told him that if he made sure Papa kept well and corresponded for me, he could take me out for a meal when I got back. He'd happily agreed. Some part of me didn't fully approve of this but I had no choice. I couldn't leave without making sure Papa was okay and Viktor - for all his faults - was the only one I knew well enough to ensure that.
I told Papa (via Viktor) about the blonde Hannah, and took a picture of my room with my webcam. I told him about the weather - so warm - and the still-yet-to-arrive roommate and I told him about the classes I was to take. I asked him about his medications, told him that I loved him and in a post script, thanked Viktor for the favour. Once the email was sent, I got to my feet, grabbed my flats and changed into my leotards. After a quick breakfast at the school cafeteria, I'd discovered that the studio I passed to get back to my room was unlocked and unmanned. CD in hand - an altered rendition of Bach's Symphony, I trudged down the stairs to the huge oak doors.
Shutting the doors behind me, I turned the music on low and assumed Pointe position. Halfway through my warm up routine, I stopped. Standing by the doors the led to the small balcony outside was a man and he didn't look too pleased to see me there.
I'd gone through almost all the interesting haunts my scraggly looking map promised, found most of them either too full, too confusing or boring and had resorted to pining my time away in my room, typing away at my laptop. Understanding that trans-international calls would cost me an arm and a leg to make, I'd made a deal with our neighbour down the hall. Viktor promised to print and deliver my emails to Papa and help around the house if I agreed to one date with him when I got back. Viktor was a sketch artist - haunted and darkly handsome - who took the same art courses I did. Conincidentally enough, we'd also gone to the same high school. He had been my date to our senior year Winter Dance, and I'd even fancied him my boyfriend the few months after. It'd just been my luck that Viktor couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to warrant my full trust so I broke it off. He got it into his head that he was in love with me the moment I told him never to call me again.
I'd just about had it with his constant prattling when I got the Baltimore scholarship and realized that I could work his projected feelings to my advantage. I told him that if he made sure Papa kept well and corresponded for me, he could take me out for a meal when I got back. He'd happily agreed. Some part of me didn't fully approve of this but I had no choice. I couldn't leave without making sure Papa was okay and Viktor - for all his faults - was the only one I knew well enough to ensure that.
I told Papa (via Viktor) about the blonde Hannah, and took a picture of my room with my webcam. I told him about the weather - so warm - and the still-yet-to-arrive roommate and I told him about the classes I was to take. I asked him about his medications, told him that I loved him and in a post script, thanked Viktor for the favour. Once the email was sent, I got to my feet, grabbed my flats and changed into my leotards. After a quick breakfast at the school cafeteria, I'd discovered that the studio I passed to get back to my room was unlocked and unmanned. CD in hand - an altered rendition of Bach's Symphony, I trudged down the stairs to the huge oak doors.
Shutting the doors behind me, I turned the music on low and assumed Pointe position. Halfway through my warm up routine, I stopped. Standing by the doors the led to the small balcony outside was a man and he didn't look too pleased to see me there.
5/13/13