Fluff to Dust

Balloons tied to my chair, streamers hung in each doorway, cupcakes iced with lime green frosting with pink letters spelling out my name. Sitting with my fluffy crown perched on my bright blonde hair, I picked anxiously at the Happy Birthday tablecloth as my family and friends sang to me. Blowing out my four candles, wishing for a pony, I spotted that special table. That table with the vibrantly wrapped presents, mocking me with their perfectly done bows and cartoon covered wrapping paper. Grabbing a small box with shimmery pink paper and a yellow bow jumping from the box. It was almost too pretty to open. Almost. That's when I saw her…that's when I met my best friend. 

A stuffed snowy petite white dog with big floppy ears and a cute button nose. She was the star in all of my adventures, so small she could fit in my two cupped hands. Snowball was my girl. I told her everything, she talked to me too. I washed her, took care of her and loved her. As the years drifted on I grew more attached. She would come to all my sleepovers and stay in my bed. It got to the point where I couldn't even close my eyes without her by my side.

 ***

Not a good beach day. I directed my attention to the window, 18 stories high in Margate City. It was raining, pouring really, each drop ringing in my ears as I sat with a thin blanket covering my long shivering legs. My attention directs to the windowsill as water leaks from the corners, a white blob catches my eye. It's Snowball…perched on the side table right below the window. Steam then blurred my vision as the smell of noodles and soup filled my lungs. What was I thinking about?? Receiving a text, my attention focused back to the space around me as I reached for my phone. I scrolled through many messages and found the most recent one. Fiddling with my clear sparkly phone case I read my mom's message. She told me that just a bit ago she left for the annual Thursday Farmers market to buy some food for the house. She proceeded to write that she had left the soup on the counter -which I already ate- and she had a few chores for me to finish. Throwing my spoon into the bowl I sighed. I text her back annoyed, replying with “Really?”. Obviously that was a mistake because I then had to read a long paragraph from her stating that I'm almost 13 years old and should learn some responsibility.

Throwing my laundry into a basket I walk it all of 10 steps across the tan carpet to the hidden closet with the washing machine stacked on top of the dryer. I put all the dirties in the washer and pressed the button. Next I plug in the vacuum and go to work around the whole apartment, as well as being careful not to go near the wet spots leaking from the window. I grab some towels to help stop the flooding of water. As I was supposed to be cleaning up, I grab Snowball and toss her into a pile of blankets by the door.

My last job was taking out the trash and I was not excited. I had to empty the bag into the shoot which is all the way on the opposite side of the 18th floor. Deciding to just go for it, I reach for the trash. It spells fowl. Holding my nose and walking to the door carefully, I turn the knob to leave. Just as the door opens a crack, a huge gust of cold wind blows in knocking the trash from my hands and causing me to forcefully try to shut the door. Like always, the hallway brings goosebumps to my skin. The ice cold rain turns the outside hall into a tunnel of ice. This Icicle weather outside my door is not going to keep me from getting this stinky stuff out of the apartment.

A smart idea I had, or so I thought. Turns out trotting across the 18th floor with a blanket draped over my body and running with trash is not the most pleasant feeling. While using the key to get into the trash room, I stumbled with the fuzzy blanket on my shoulders as it slid from them down my back. Along with a thump, my attention fell to the floor, perched on the carpet covered ground, I saw a snowball's white raggedy head staring up at me. “Was she wrapped in the blanket the whole time?!” As I reach to pick her up, along with the blanket, I wrap myself up again and turn the key. The door creaks as the automatic light brightens the smelly room. Steel lining every corner in the room and giant recycle cans lined across the back wall. They stink. I couldn't wait to leave. Quickly, heaving the trash up on my shoulder, I open the shoot- a mini door attached to the wall- and keep my hand steady. Looking down into the open shoot, all I could see for miles was an endless silver tube. I took my hand not occupied and heaved the trash from my shoulder into the shoot. It happened too fast, she was gone… 

It took a few minutes, then I snapped out of shock. I'm not horrified or angry. Why am I not angry? Should I be angry? Why would I be angry? Through my mind raced tons of feelings and questions but one really made me think. I don't need a Snowball in my life anymore. I'm 13 and mature and I probably shouldn't be relying on stuffed things to be my friends. Repositioning the blanket across my shoulder I turn to leave, the putrid smell releases from my nose and I lock the room back up. Going home I feel weight lifting from my shoulders, and it's not just because the blanket keeps sliding down my back. It’s the relief of my chores being completed and my day moving on. Once I’m back in my cozy apartment I fiddle with my phone until I find my mom's contact. Reading the last of the conversation, I sighed. I sent another message to her. “Finished” “what’s next?”