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 Driving Aunt Lily

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Sephiroth
Heartless Angel
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Posts : 197
Join date : 2013-06-09

PostSubject: Driving Aunt Lily   Sun Dec 08, 2013 6:04 am

The faintest trickle of rays from the morning sun crept through the blinds, creating a thin blade of sunlight along the floor. Michael yawned and stretched as the sunbeam ran over his toes, slowly but surely bringing warmth to them. Running a hand through his short, brown hair, the twenty-three year old glanced at the clock resting on the shelving unit that also held his large plasma television. The celadon colored numbers on the face told him that it was half past eight in the morning. Michael put down the game controller he was holding and leaned back into the couch, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He had been awake since eight the previous evening, playing The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, but now that he had stopped for a moment, he realized how tired his body was. Reaching for the remote, Michael clicked the power button. The television flashed brightly before fading quickly to black. Rummaging for a water bottle that he had left on the table next to the couch, Michael stood and started to walk to his room, a few feet down the hall on the right.

No sooner had Michael reached his room than did he hear a shrill sound coming from the living room. Failing to stifle another yawn, Michael returned to the living room. The sound grew louder, more annoying. He stuck his hand into the couch, fishing between the cushions until his hand wrapped around something small and hard that was vibrating. Withdrawing his phone from the couch, Michael flipped the cover open and put it to his ear.

"Good morning," he said, trying to be cheerful and hide the tiredness from his voice. "Eclipse Enterprises. Michael speaking."

"Michael?" a woman's voice said. "It's your Aunt Lily." Michael nodded, though he knew she couldn't see him. He had recognized her voice instantly, although they didn't speak often since Michael's cousin was passed the age where she required a babysitter.

"Ah, hello auntie," Michael said, hoping he didn't sound annoyed. He loved his aunt, of course, but she was prone to rattling on and on for hours on end about things no one cared about or, most of the time, even understand. He glanced at the clock again. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, of course," Lily said. "I was just wondering if perhaps you would be able to do me a favor. Your uncle and cousin are in Connecticut for a few days; I can't drive anymore and was wondering if you would be able to take me around for a few errands?" Inwardly, Michael groaned loudly. He had always found it difficult to say no to anyone, for any reason, but it was especially difficult for him to say no to beautiful women. And Lily was definitely a beautiful woman.

"Sure," he said, even though his brain was screaming at him to say no. He was too tired, would be gone too long, and was definitely not going to be getting paid for his time.

"Great," his aunt said into the phone. "Can you be here for nine-thirty? That should give you time to shower and get over here. Have you eaten yet? We can stop for breakfast if you like."

"No, I haven't eaten."

"Okay," his aunt continued. "I'll be waiting for you. See you soon."

"Bye Auntie," Michael said before flipping the phone closed. "Ugh, how do I keep getting myself into these situations?" he asked himself as he stripped his shirt off and dropped it onto the floor. "Well, I can't say no for one," he answered himself. Sighing, Michael stripped off the rest of his clothes after he had turned the shower on. Once it was sufficiently hot, he stepped under the water and let it wash over him, easing a bit of the tiredness out of his muscles. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the wall under the shower head as the water washed over him. Fifteen minutes later, he opened his eyes, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to take his aunt on her errands. As he turned the handle to turn off the water, he silently prayed that they would only take an hour, perhaps two, at the most. Then he could come home and sleep.

Water dripped onto the floor as Michael strode across the hallway to his bedroom, but he paid it no mind. He cast a glance to his left, across the living room to his parents' room. Or, at least, what had used to be his parents' bed room. He frowned as he looked at the closed door; he hadn't opened it since they died the previous summer, except for when he had to get their wills and some other documents. Pushing his memories aside, Michael went into his closet and pulled out a dark purple collared shirt, a black tie and black sports coat, and a pair of black dress slacks. Regardless of where he was going or who he was going with, Michael always liked to dress nice. It had been something his mother had imparted to him as a child. "Michael," she had said, "remember to always dress like you're about to meet the girl of your dreams."

"Or like you're going to die," his father had added jokingly.
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