...

There was a loud sounds of screeching tires from the street level hat woke Marie in the early morning. Everything in the room was still except for the shadows of head lights dancing across the walls. Marie was only awake for a short time before turning over to her side and dozing off again.

Three hours later a ringing came from the alarm clock that rested next to a candle, a postcard, and a pack of cigarettes. A petite hand grabbled toward the bedside table that held some of Marie's dearest possessions. When she was a child her kindergarden teach would always light a candle whenever it was story time, Marie did the same every time she read in bed. The postcard was written from her grandfather, and the cigarettes were the same brand that he smoked.
When the noise from the alarm clock was quieted Marie poured out a cigarette onto her upper stomach and reached for her zippo. These few moments in bed always helped her wake up. There was no time, nor food, to make a breakfast so Marie headed straight for the door.
As Marie stepped out of the lobby of her apartment complex she was greeted by a gush of warm air that picked the hair up from her shoulders. One the door was shut she reached into her pocket and lit another cigarette as she preceded to walk to the right. There was an antique shop that looked intriguing. Marie had always fancied antiques or anything that had a general olden tinge to it.
Marie looked at the antique store as she walked began to walk towards it, pondering the possibilities that might be lingering inside. Unfortunately her thoughts were interrupted as two red boots trumped right up to her and coughed. Marie's eyes didn't glance any farther upward than the obnoxious boots attached to the ground. The cough was intended as a warning to the dangers of smoking but Marie was paying attention to the wind and the way the antique shop looked down the road. Marie continued to stare at the red boots blankly. "You shouldn't smoke," said the boots. Marie remained stagnant to the comment and continued to glance down the road.
The lighting was interesting. There was a bench down the way and Marie wanted to sit on it. She turned to the woman wearing the boots, looked her in the eyes, and blew an exhale in her general direction. The act was subconsciously done but the woman in the red boots took great offense, "What a bitch," she thought as Marie walked toward the bench.