The Bank (Chapter 1, Morning)
Posted April 15th, 2007 by AlecO
The cars tires hummed as they glided across the freshly paved Hyperion Street. I ignored the hypnotic sound, instead choosing to focus on the thumping beat of the bass coming from the speakers. I was listening to my favorite band, Green day, and their hit song, American Idiot. I was on my way to the office, a small, 6 story building in Lafayette. This morning was like any other morning, wake up, reluctantly roll out of bed, trudge into the kitchen, pour a bowl of cereal, spilling a few flakes on the already grimy counter. Then I would walk back into my small bedroom, take my navy blue blazer out of the closet, and pull it over my head, the soft material lightly touching my cheek. I would grab my laptop, a handy tool for any journalist, and I would then ruffle through all the clutter on my desk, snatch a few important documents, jam them under my arm, and jog out the door, facing the brisk Michigan breeze. At that time I worked for the Detroit Free Press, or as we called at the office, the Freep. The song came to a close, and I turned onto the road which the office sat. I pulled into the pot hole ridden driveway, and looked for a spot to park my car, a 2004 GTO. I backed into a spot at the far end of the lot, not wanting the car to be dented by a door to the side, or scratched by a key across the door. I opened the door, and walked slowly to the office. I pushed my shoulder into the revolving door, and stepped into the lobby. The secretary, Mia, smiled at me as I headed for the elevator. My office was on the third floor. The day would be filled with typing, emails, a few chats at the water cooler, a lunch break, then more typing, then submitting an article, then going home. I didn't know it at the time, but even though I felt no difference in this day, it would be a day to remember.
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