this is another story i wrote maybe ten years ago. well, this isn't that story exactly, i'm going to try and remember it.
the boy woke up, alert. It was as if he wasn't even sleeping, the alarm only serving to remind his already active mind that it was time to go. He slid off his bed, and as he walked towards the bathroom, he absent mindedly counted the steps. Seven and a half steps later he flicked the light on, and took stock of his appearance. He grinned at his ruffled hair, his sleepy countenance. Wetting the palm of his hand, he made to brush some order into his thick, brown hair, but stopped just short of his brow, remembering. The girl rather liked when his hair was out of place, that's right. Water dripped onto his chest, and he chuckled a little, thinking of the girl, his girl. The toothbrush, elevated in its holder, holding court with the toothpaste and the floss, demanded his attention. He brushed his teeth systematically, counting the seconds as he did. one hundred and twenty seconds later he rinsed, wiped the water from his mouth with his forearm, and stepped back into the darkened hallway. The boy went back into his room, dimly lit from without by moonlight streaming through half-closed blinds. He took a quick inventory. His bed was not made, but the covers were at least laying flat, giving some semblance of order. The shoes, neatly stowed beside the door, polished so perfectly as to be almost austere in appearance, were ready. The briefcase, impatient to be on the way after such a long period of imprisonment in the closet, begged to leave. He laughed at the thought of briefcases begging for anything, scooped the shoes up, grabbed the briefcase, and walked out the door. The boy briskly bounded down an 18 step staircase, walked out the front door, and took 11 steps to the car. Carefully stowing the evening's attire in the trunk, he hopped in the car, checked his mirrors, and drove off into the night.
The girl yawned, and angrily narrowed her eyes at the screaming alarm clock, sitting on a table haflway across the room. It was a perfect system, having the alarm clock located out of arms reach, but it was ever so irritating, every time that system was put to use. She flung the covers from her legs, stumbled over to the small black box, cut off it's screech, and brought both her hands to her face. After a moments hesitation about whether or not to get back in bed, the girl decided that a splash of water on her face was exactly what she needed. Arriving at the bathroom, she thought better. She could read the clock in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Yes, 7 minutes was more than enough time. She turned the knob, and hopped in. Biting back a curse for not allowing a proper amount of time for the water to heat up, she showered. 12 minutes later she stepped out, a girl transformed. She glowed, radiant. It was as if light from the bulbs above the mirror went out of its way if only to bounce off of her perfect face, her soft skin. The girl caught a glimpse of the clock, and gritted her teeth. Trying to hold back a knowing smile, what came out instead was the twisted grimace of one trying to hold in a laugh so as not to ruin a joke. She was at the same time angry and pleased. She was angry that the boy knew her so well that it was likely he purposefully told her to be ready 20 minutes earlier than he intended to leave. She was similarly pleased, for the very same reason. The girl was so unlike the boy. For so long, her foremost priority in life was to forge her own identity, one that was uniquely hers, unknown to anyone. In her mind, the world was a vast oceanfront, the sands of time not falling through the hourglass, but rather being ever swept clean, again, again, and again. It was her goal to leave an indelible footprint in that sand. Certainly not one that would be permanent, but one so lasting and deep that it would take years and years of waves to erase it. In light of all that, it was absolutely frustrating, to know that this boy had come along and so quickly identified her, even her most secret thoughts. He had a habit of reading her so openly, so deftly, that it terrified her. She would never let on, though, not even to him. To know that she knew him equally as well, though, that was cause for a smile. The girl caught herself blushing in the mirror. Furious with herself, she threw open the closet door, and reviewed the three dresses she was considering for the evening. 8 chaotic minutes later, she was out the door.
(gonna finish this later)