closing hours // [Clover/Nettle]

The hours ticked away so slowly, and the clock that hung above the door seemed to taunt Heather. Five more minute until closing time. Do you think you'll be able to bare it?

The sixteen year old bit back her grimace as the bell connected to the door rung, and a customer entered the bakery. Through clenched teeth, she attempted the best she could to smile and serve the shopper with the most respect she could muster up. Handing the elderly lady her loaf of broad in a thin, white cloth, and then nodding to her briefly as the woman thanked her, Heather heaved a great sigh of relief as she watched the woman retreat the shop. Collapsing onto the wooden stool behind the counter, the first genuine smile of the day appeared on Heather's face once her eyes caught sight of the time.

Four PM. She thought, untying her apron and hanging it on a nearby hook. See? I handled the time well enough.

Thank goodness for Sundays and the closing hours it came with, because had it been a weekday, the blonde would still be stuck here for another two million hours. Not to misunderstand her, Heather enjoyed her aunt's bakery and goods. But, dealing with stingy customers, smelling air tainted with burnt pastries, and being confined within the constraints of the brick walls for seven hours could sometimes be a hassle.

Hopping over the counter in one quick movement, her foot caught onto the ledge and she fell flat on her face. She lay on the floor for a few seconds, consumed in her own shock and latent pain. You'd think a girl could get used to being this uncoordinated after all these years. She wearily picked herself off the floor, and walked towards the door, shame covering her features. The redness in her face faded once she remembered she was alone and that no one saw her fall. Back to a happier beat, she flipped the sign from Yes, we're OPEN to Sorry, we're CLOSED. She looked through the glass windows that advertised bread and cakes, and longingly stared at the view it possessed.

Considering the time and season, the weather today was beautiful. Bright blue sky hovered above, a dazzling sun radiating all of Eleven, and Heather swore that she could hear the melodies of birds beckoning her outside. Her own voice naturally slipped through her lips, joining in with the tune.

Soon, she found her pale hand clasping the brass knob of the door. She fought with her mind for a good minute - but it's cold outside. . . But there's life outside.

Her heart won over her mind, and twisting the door handle, she stepped outside in one quick stride - deeply breathing in the fresh oxygen. It wasn't until now did she notice that the lack of fresh air inside made her feel a bit light headed.

Heather hardly noticed the chills that the frigid air gave her bare skin until she was a mile off from the bakery - too late to go back and retrieve her jacket. Inwardly, she shrugged. I'll survive.

She followed the sound of the singing birds, finding herself in an empty field of long blades of grass. A few apple trees were sprawled here and there, and she chose the one that seemed to be the tallest of them all, and settled down on one of it's large roots. The sunlight that streamed through the branches of the tree danced on her hair, seemingly causing it to sparkle like gold. But, it was windier here than it was in town, so her blonde hair flew about her pale face in golden strands. Her white dress was brown at the hem with dust, and torn from her long walk. Luckily for Heather, beauty was of little consequence to her, and she couldn't care less of how strewn she must've looked like at that moment. Instead, she parted her pink lips and produced a sweet sound, with the birds immediately joining in on her song.