Amer grabbed an orange out of the bag labeled Cara Cara. It could only be Cara Cara. Amer loved the dark pink color of the flesh and their flavor. Ewwww penicillin, she thought. One of the oranges had a green mold with silver gray edges all over the surface. She removed the infected orange and dropped it on her compost pile, brushing off her hands like she had just handled a dead rat.
I’m late, aren’t I, she thought. No. Amer wasn’t just late. Amer was notoriously remiss, but this daydreaming delinquent was a whole day late, a feat she normally wasn’t able to pull off.
She was usually just the last one, not so remarkably belated.
“Oh well,” she sighed, running a brush through her hair once before tossing it aside, then brushing her teeth. She had always had such nice teeth. She wouldn’t want to ruin that.
Then she reached for her prototype adventure backpack (courtesy of those amazing, hardworking penguin scientists in Antartica) and tried to see if there was any more space to fit stuff in. She hadn’t packed a hairbrush but it was already clear that brushing hair was not one of her priorities.
Of course there was space. This backpack was designed to give you back support and always have space for more. Quite a revolutionary design.
She looked at the serene, fluffy lump on the rolly chair that he chose as his preferred sleeping spot in the morning and decided it wouldn’t be fair to suffocate dear Shiloh in her backpack, no matter how expansive it was. So she set the backpack on the piano bench where she had spent countless agonizing moons practicing her oboe skills and shoved it on. It was surprisingly... unpainful, once she managed to strap it around her waist, of course. There was an elusive few of backpacks that actually fit snugly around her minuscule middle and there was unfortunately a lot of tugging involved in order to make this particular one small enough.
With that secure, it was only a matter of grabbing the ten pounds of fluff before her and heading out the door.
She then threw on a coat over her t-shirt. The t-shirt was a hopeful reminder that warmer weather was ahead.
Then Amer trudged through the snow.
Amer hopped into the drivers seat of her car (for the purpose of this rp we’re saying she has one) and she drove to the warehouse. (It was quite far from where she lived, but Amer could drive very fast.) She stopped in a Walmart parking lot and left the vehicle there, not really caring about the junky thing’s fate.
She opened the door, grabbed Shiloh, and began running to the warehouse.
“Sorry. I’m. Late.” She gasped in the warehouse doorway. She unstrapped her pack and sat down, setting a bewildered Shiloh beside her.
“I think I inherited chronic lateness from my grandma.”
I’m late, aren’t I, she thought. No. Amer wasn’t just late. Amer was notoriously remiss, but this daydreaming delinquent was a whole day late, a feat she normally wasn’t able to pull off.
She was usually just the last one, not so remarkably belated.
“Oh well,” she sighed, running a brush through her hair once before tossing it aside, then brushing her teeth. She had always had such nice teeth. She wouldn’t want to ruin that.
Then she reached for her prototype adventure backpack (courtesy of those amazing, hardworking penguin scientists in Antartica) and tried to see if there was any more space to fit stuff in. She hadn’t packed a hairbrush but it was already clear that brushing hair was not one of her priorities.
Of course there was space. This backpack was designed to give you back support and always have space for more. Quite a revolutionary design.
She looked at the serene, fluffy lump on the rolly chair that he chose as his preferred sleeping spot in the morning and decided it wouldn’t be fair to suffocate dear Shiloh in her backpack, no matter how expansive it was. So she set the backpack on the piano bench where she had spent countless agonizing moons practicing her oboe skills and shoved it on. It was surprisingly... unpainful, once she managed to strap it around her waist, of course. There was an elusive few of backpacks that actually fit snugly around her minuscule middle and there was unfortunately a lot of tugging involved in order to make this particular one small enough.
With that secure, it was only a matter of grabbing the ten pounds of fluff before her and heading out the door.
She then threw on a coat over her t-shirt. The t-shirt was a hopeful reminder that warmer weather was ahead.
Then Amer trudged through the snow.
Amer hopped into the drivers seat of her car (for the purpose of this rp we’re saying she has one) and she drove to the warehouse. (It was quite far from where she lived, but Amer could drive very fast.) She stopped in a Walmart parking lot and left the vehicle there, not really caring about the junky thing’s fate.
She opened the door, grabbed Shiloh, and began running to the warehouse.
“Sorry. I’m. Late.” She gasped in the warehouse doorway. She unstrapped her pack and sat down, setting a bewildered Shiloh beside her.
“I think I inherited chronic lateness from my grandma.”
