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She could feel the sand beneath her skin, the grainy, fine minerals. Saltwater swayed her hair back and forth in the tide, her face up to a blue, hot, sky. Marsha Kelly dunked her head one more time under the water before walking up to land.
Sand still stuck to her feet when she left, going back to the apartment. Not her dwelling exactly, it was John's. I need more money, she thought, doing a sort of hop on the pavement as to avoid its burning temperature and rough texture.
She passed by all the buildings, strip malls, shops, and concrete jungles, where people crowded each and every day.
Waiting for the stoplight, around the corner, she could see her old middle school. How long had it been since she'd walked those grounds? She'd only graduated high school that summer. Not too long, but it felt like an eternity. . . one spent surrounded by walls, concrete, rats, and the waves.
He wasn't there. John wasn't home, as usual. One like him spent frequent trips away from it all. Oftentimes he would say nothing before his departure. Why'd John never stay home? Maybe out of boredom, or curiosity, there could be lots of reasons, Marsha thought. He was an odd creature, if not in looks, then in behavior. There was nothing he couldn't do, but what exactly did he want to do?
Sometimes he'd stare at nothing, seeing things only he could see. He wouldn't speak, or he'd say things meant for him and no one else. No one ever knew what he was thinking. He always seemed to harbor the look of a wild animal. How very strange, but how very alluring to a girl like Marsha. She'd spent all her life with a sense of certainty, everything handed to her each and every day. It seemed as if the silver spoon in her mouth was choking her. Now that she didn't know what would happen all the time, maybe she could be excited for once. But not now.
A cat yowled from underneath the beat-up sofa. It scurried across the floor and slowed down at her ankles, batting his tail and rubbing his feline face against her. "How'd you get in here?" She asked him(it was clearly a male cat, don't ask how she knew,) before he made another sound and ran off. Marsha loved cats more than anything else.
She walked over into the side room, which had a bed, a few stacks of books in the corners, and a window with thin curtains. It would have seemed a bit dingy to anyone else. She sat down on her bed and began reading a magazine strewn on the window above it. Fashion, designs, what diet she should go on to lose twenty pounds, and why nothing ever works out, everything she needed to know.
It wasn't windy one bit, since she could only hear the sounds of others. A bunch of pigeons must have been startled, because she heard that familiar sound. Someone yelled at someone else below, and a thud could be made out.
Marsha Kelly dragged out the bathroom drawer in search of a hair comb. She looked in the filthy mirror to find someone staring right back. That someone had hair hanging below her neck, with bangs too long. That shock of reddish brown hair didn't make her say much of anything.
She stuck her arm to the side and poked hard, finding it still sturdy(from her cheerleading days… How long ago? Last year? She was the flyer,) but thinner than it used to be.
Stepping back, she took in her figure, wearing only a soaked-through tank top and skirt. Her appearance: thin, flat, small. Turning to the side, she no longer had any stomach pudge. Marsha's childhood body left her behind. She left the bathroom and laid back down.
She heard the whirring of a washing machine, standing by the window. Yes, she had a job now. Even if it was only three days a week, at least Marsha could make any amount of cash. It's at the Laundromat, the one that isn't very popular to go to, and for good reason. This one isn't clean at all, she noted, seeing a roach run past her sandaled feet.
The woman next to the dryer stuck her head up. She had blonde hair down to her chin, an odd look on her face, and seemed maybe on the older side. Marsha recognized the face in a second. It was Miss Pinkerton, a teacher from her high school years(how long ago? She still can't recall.)