Mind your own business {goat}

The mornings are getting warmer. I woke up early, long before the sun rose, and could already feel the heat sinking into my skin. Heat brings sweat, which brings clogged pores, which brings acne, so I generously applied a few serums to my face before getting dressed. The training center won't be open for a couple more hours, and I stayed late last night. I've spent so much time over there that a break would be well deserved. The grind never stops for somebody like me, unfortunately. Somebody who needs to remain on top. I grabbed an apple from the fruit basket atop the table and emerged into the outside world.

The sun is making its journey into the sky as I jog down my usual path to the center. Every so often, I take a small bite of my apple. Eating it too fast could slow me down, and I want to get out of this part of town as quickly as possible. The part of the District where my house is located can be summed up in one word- shitty. Nobody would think there's a bad place to live in District 1, but they'd be surprised. My neighborhood is sparsely populated, and the homes are small, having no more than two bedrooms. What do you do if a guest comes around? Make them sleep on the couch, I suppose.

I round the corner, where a few businesses sit. They're closed, of course. I chew the final bits of flesh off the apple core. I don't want to carry this with me all the way to the center. There has to be a trash can around here somewhere. I slow my pace until it resembles more of a walk, and duck into an alleyway between a bar and an unidentifiable shop. In the backyard, I find a trash can, and beyond that, a girl. I nearly jump out of my skin. Who the hell hangs around a trash can at this time? She looks like she heard me coming before I saw her. Her cheeks are glistening, as if she just wiped away tears. Seriously? There's no reason to be crying this early. “What's the sad occasion?” I sneer, tossing the apple core into the garbage.

The girl puts on a face that makes her look like a disgruntled kitten. It’s not menacing, although I know she’s trying to be. I’ll give her an A for effort. Why is she so mad, anyway? If it were me in this situation (and I’d never be in this situation, because I don’t make a fool of myself in public), I’d be embarrassed somebody saw me like this. I wouldn’t clench my fist and puff out my chest like some child picked on at the playground. That just adds to the embarrassment.

"And why do you care? Didn't your mummy teach you to keep your long nose out of other people's business?!" My hand flies to my nose. Long? How dare she. She’s barely even a four out of ten. Even if she weren’t, she has no right to comment on my appearance when she’s out here crying behind a dumpster. I scoff, and lean on the edge of the trash can. When you look cool, calm, and collected, it’s easy to throw your opponent off. Don’t let them see you falter. Not that I would dare show any insecurity in front of anybody, of course.

She goes off on a long tangent, speaking practically a thousand words a second. I stand there and listen, for some reason I can’t put my finger on. Maybe I think it’s funny. She’s trying so hard. Unfortunately, once she finishes speaking, I’m unimpressed. I think my time has been more than wasted. I hold up my index finger. "First of all, I have a name. It’s Jett. Pleased to meet you. Second, I’m unsure as to why you care so much about this, and it’s honestly quite pathetic. And third-" I put my finger down and widen my cruel smile. "Are you really threatening to punch me? That won’t end well for you."