Strings of Fate

3- Comfort and cookies

I finish the last few hours of my shift in a blur. Despite the unexpected proposal, I am over the moon. My first real friend at last.

Anthony gives me a funny look as I give him a cheerful wave on my way out, something I have definitely never done before. My feet are killing me as I begin the fifteen–minute walk to my apartment. I’ve only been walking about five minutes when I give up on my heels entirely and just take off my shoes and carry them.

I walk along the pavement in my stockings and hope that there isn’t any broken glass or sharp rocks on my path. It’s just after ten pm when I reach my home. I sigh and begin to climb the stairs.

I live on the third floor of a tiny, cramped and somewhat rundown building. At least the rent is cheap and the landlady is the sweetest woman. Probably the closest thing I have to an actual friend.

She is a little old lady, human, but unusually accepting of Magics. She lives off the rent from the residents of the building and spends her days in her own little apartment on the bottom floor.

I used to have the bottom floor, but about a month ago it became clear that Maggie, the landlady, would not be able to manage the stairs much longer. I offered to swap with her. The climb is annoying, particularly after a long day at work. But I am only twenty–two years old. Not nearly old enough to complain over something as easy as a couple flights of stairs.

Trading apartments with Maggie did come with one nice advantage. Maggie spends almost all of her free time baking and making different treats which she is very happy to share with me. She will bake during the day and sell most of what she makes at a local market in the mornings. It doesn’t really make her any money, but it covers the cost of the ingredients and lets her enjoy her retirement.

I finally reach my floor and find a plate of chocolate chip cookies covered in glad wrap sitting on the ledge of my window with a little note taped to it.

3- Comfort and cookies

“Trying a new recipe. I asked Logan to take these upstairs for you. Let me know what you think.

– Love Maggie

Logan is Maggie’s grandson. He lives with his mum a few streets over. He often stops by to visit Maggie after school. She always provides him with treats in exchange for his assistance with running a few errands for her, like delivering cookies to my apartment.

He is eleven years old and still eager to please so it is a perfect arrangement for them both. I have also noticed a green thread connecting Maggie and her grandson. They are part of the reason I suspect it represents some kind of mentor type relationship.

I grin and let myself into my apartment, grabbing the plate on my way in. I dump my keys on the little table which I keep pushed up against the wall of the living/ dining/kitchen type

area.

I never have guests so the table is barely ever used. My apartment consists of a joint living/ dining/kitchen area. A tiny bedroom and a balcony. There is a laundry room on the bottom. floor connecting to Maggie’s apartment which all the building residents share.

The building has four floors so aside from Maggie and I there are three other people living in the building. A young couple on the top floor, Ren and Kiara. They are newly married but without their parents approval. They don’t have much, but they seem to be happy. I can see the red thread connecting them so I know they made the right decision in choosing each other.

On the floor between myself and Maggie there is currently a middle aged man named Paul. He is recently divorced and seems to have gotten the worse side of the divorce arrangement. We have had a revolving door of residents on that floor in the two years since I moved in here, no one seems to stick around for long. I suspect Paul might last longer than most. I’m not sure if that is a good or bad thing.

Maggie spoke with him when he moved in and warned me that he has expressed a dislike for Magics. She figured I might prefer to avoid him or at least keep my mark covered to avoid. trouble. I agreed with her. There is no reason to invite disaster.

3- Comfort and cookies

My apartment may not be five star, but it is safe and comfortable and gives me a place to call

my own.

I was raised in a Magics orphanage where I stayed until I was eighteen. I moved around between crappy apartments for a couple years before settling here. My time in the orphanage was not pleasant as I did not fit in with the other Magics there, not that there were a lot of

1. us.

Most Magics band together in groups. A Shifter child would never be sent to an orphanage, they would be taken in by other Shifters. Witches also like to keep together in their covens. Sorcerers like to take apprentices and will often take in young Sorcerers if they are available to train and raise in their own image.

They tend to be a little self obsessed in my opinion. No, the few Magics who end up in orphanages are mostly Succubi and Inccubi (their parents are notoriously promiscuous after all) as well as Magics who can’t be identified, and most of those tend to figure out their powers fairly young and then are adopted into appropriate families.

Exhausted from a long shift, I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and change into my fuzzy, pink, unicorn adorned, flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers.

I set a packet of instant noodles to heat in the microwave of my rarely used kitchen and sit and eat my cookies as I wait. They are amazing. Note to self, tell Maggie how amazing these

cookies are.

I glance at the microwave and notice it only has a few seconds to go. I launch myself from my seat and dash over, sliding slightly as I hit the button to stop the machine before it lets out the incredibly annoying high pitched screech that someone deemed an appropriate way to signal it is complete. Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

I eat quickly and burn my tongue a little as I down the last of the broth from the bowl. I swallow a few mouthfuls of water and leave my dishes by the sink before making my way through my bedroom to the bathroom where I brush my teeth before I stumble back to my bedroom. It is tiny but cosy. I have filled it with every kind of fluffy blanket, pillow and beanbag that I can afford.

Every time I decide to treat myself, it is to some new comfort object. Some people buy

3- Comfort and cookies

My apartment may not be five star, but it is safe and comfortable and gives me a place to call

my own.

I was raised in a Magics orphanage where I stayed until I was eighteen. I moved around between crappy apartments for a couple years before settling here. My time in the orphanage was not pleasant as I did not fit in with the other Magics there, not that there were a lot of

1. US.

Most Magics band together in groups. A Shifter child would never be sent to an orphanage, they would be taken in by other Shifters. Witches also like to keep together in their covens. Sorcerers like to take apprentices and will often take in young Sorcerers if they are available. to train and raise in their own image.

They tend to be a little self obsessed in my opinion. No, the few Magics who end up in orphanages are mostly Succubi and Inccubi (their parents are notoriously promiscuous after all) as well as Magics who can’t be identified, and most of those tend to figure out their powers fairly young and then are adopted into appropriate families.

Exhausted from a long shift, I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and change into my fuzzy, pink, unicorn adorned, flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers.

I set a packet of instant noodles to heat in the microwave of my rarely used kitchen and sit and eat my cookies as I wait. They are amazing. Note to self, tell Maggie how amazing these

cookies are.

I glance at the microwave and notice it only has a few seconds to go. I launch myself from my seat and dash over, sliding slightly as I hit the button to stop the machine before it lets out the incredibly annoying high pitched screech that someone deemed an appropriate way to signal it is complete.

I eat quickly and burn my tongue a little as I down the last of the broth from the bowl. I swallow a few mouthfuls of water and leave my dishes by the sink before making my way through my bedroom to the bathroom where I brush my teeth before I stumble back to my bedroom. It is tiny but cosy. I have filled it with every kind of fluffy blanket, pillow and beanbag that I can afford.

Every time I decide to treat myself, it is to some new comfort object. Some people buy

3- Comfort and cookies

makeup and fancy clothes, others buy books or movies.

I get comfy, squishy objects. Okay and a Netflix subscription, but I only pay for half of that. Maggie and I share a Netflix account. She has no idea here to work most technology, so I set it up and pay for it, but she deducts a lathe of it from my rent in exchange for her own profile on it.

I once snuck a look to see what she was watching and had a private little giggle when 1 realised that she uses it to watch almost nothing but rom–coms. Not that I blame her, I watch them too, probably more oftem than most.

I don’t have a TV, instead I have a laptop which is probably the most valuable item I own. I worked extra shifts for months to save up for it. I shift the laptop from where it sits in the pile of blankets and pillows om my bed and place it on the little side table.

I only have one side table which I got discounted because it was originally part of a set but the other one got damaged. This is perfect for me though because the room only really has space for one

I have a queen–sized bed which I have up against the wall in the corner of the room to make a cosy little comer of pillows and happiness. The bedside table fits in on the other side and

eaves just enough space for my little dresser where I keep my clothes, and the few cosmetic and jewellery items that I ow

With the laptop out of the way, I quickly place my cheap, flip phone on to charge (something I only com so work cam contact me. Or Maggie on occasion) then I collapse into my bed and bury myself under

the piles of blankets.

The thread commecting Megan and I has faded for now which tells me that she isn’t close by. I close my eyes and relax, and it takes me barely any time at all to fall asleep after my long and emotionally exhausting evening.