"Just get through today, just one more day.” she whispers to herself as she stumbles through the crowded, smoggy streets of Berlin.

But what happens after one more day? What next? she thinks, trying to avoid puddles and intrusive street vendors. 

The bell complains with a bleak chime as she swings open the door to the next step in her morning routine.

Dark Roast. No cream, triple sugar. Anything else and its mixology.

The barista hands Lacey her lukewarm daily energizer, and gives her a weak smile and mumbles some sort of farewell.

Quickly leaving the coffee shop, which has to be violating at least ten health codes, she focuses on the next part of her meticulously organized plan of action.

A few more blocks, then work, then relax, then home. …how many more hours? Twelve? I can do twelve.

She steps up to the dark, heavy door to her work, the old building seems to tower over her, like a nightmare about to become reality. She takes a deep breath filled with determination and a bit of dread, and heaves the door open to whatever lies before her.

The minute she sits at her desk, the phone blares unexpectedly. Jumping from surprise, she quickly answers it, breathing out an exhausted, “Otis Elevator Company, this is Lacey.”

She flips her lifeless ashy brunette hair, and directs the caller to the right person for his concern.

...

Lunch consists of limp salad with cold chicken from the bustling cafeteria. Her crystal blue eyes flick from face to face, making note of the people around her.

Everyone seems so vacant, she thinks. Lives without life. No spark. Just drones, doing the same thing everyday.

Being one of the youngest employees at Otis Elevators, twenty-two year old Lacey doesn’t have many friends. As a native Chicagoan in Berlin, she feels like a fish out of water. The transfer was her choice, but the past year and a half hasn’t exactly been what she expected. Life in Berlin isn’t bad, but it isn’t great either. Finishing her salad, she goes back to her invigorating desk job as a receptionist.

After several hours, she feels the two o’clock lull. Heavy eye-lids plague her as she fights to keep focused. But her vision keeps crossing… and her head seems to weigh at least thirty extr

...

“Frauline Bunting? Fra… Lacey?” a German accent, laced with concern, beckons to the sleeping receptionist.

Roused from her sleep, Lacey snaps to attention, surprised at her fatigue. 

I can’t believe I dozed off. I've doing so well… I’ve been clean for at least a week and half.

“Yes? I am so sorry, how embarrassing…” Lacey trails off, unsure if there is any reasonable excuse. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, could you please make fifteen copies of these expense reports?” the woman says with empathy. “I know, it can get dreadfully stale around here.”

“It does, but I should still stay attentive.” says Lacey, taking the reports.

On her way to the copy room, she looks out the window. The irritated sky was gray and churning slowly. Gentle rain drops begin to tap against the window. The droplets quickly begin running down the smooth surface, like dozens of comets rippling toward the earth.

Lacey shrugs off the common sight, irritated with the change of weather, and continues to the copier. The stack of papers are still warm when she gives the freshly minted reports to her living alarm clock. “Thanks again for waking me,” Lacey says quietly. The woman responds with a slight nod and a smile.

Lacey reluctantly drags her feet back to her desk, glancing at the clock.

2:52

Three hours and eight minutes.

She lets out a heavy sigh.

...

Out on the street again at exactly 6:03, Lacey notices the rain subsided, but the wind harasses her as she fights against it down the walkway. After a few blocks, she escapes the forces of nature inside Die Kaffetasse, her usual hotspot for a crappy cup of coffee. The same bell rings another cry of protest, as she pushes open the cafe door.

Dark Roast. Decaf. No cream, triple sugar. Anything else is mixology.

The same barista from that morning hands Lacey her coffee. She notes it is slightly hotter than before, and not quite as sweet. Grabbing an extra sugar packet on her way out the door, she goes back out into the streets to battle the elements.

As she walks, sipping her coffee, the wind dies down considerably.

It’s still light out, and it’s only 6:20. I think I will walk to Mogg & Melzer for a quick bite, then head home. 

Mogg & Melzer is relatively slow, and she takes her time eating and winding down from the day. She watches the few people around her, and her eyes fall on one tired young man who looks just a little older than herself.

Lacey notices he is alone, and is close to finishing. His light brown hair is wavy and unkempt, well paired with a scruffy ginger beard. He smiles –It is a genuine smile, Lacey thinks– and gives the waiter his paid bill. She studies his face, and although she can sense his weariness from the world, she can see something else in his eyes; in his heart.

He leaves, and she is sorry to see him go. Minutes pass and she too pays for her meal, and stepping out of Mogg & Melzer feeling a little different than when she stepped in.

The sun had set and Lacey watches as Berlin begins to light up as usual against the black night, and she walks home, wondering about the man in the restaurant.

Something about him was refreshing somehow. I’m not sure how, but it was, she reasons as she walks.

Climbing the stairs to the stuffy apartment she calls home, Lacey’s mind has gone to other things. Thoughts flood her mind about work, the world, and her troubles. As she gets ready for the next day, she doesn’t see how her life can be beautiful.

"I am just like those people at work," she states with authority. “I am twenty-two years old, and I am as cynical as they get. I work and that’s it. I never enjoy myself, and wouldn’t see the point if I did.”

She continues her soliloquy internally, I just drone on, doing the same things and feeling nothing. My life is dull and without luster. Just the same thing day after day. I like my life like this. It’s black and white television. The people liked it then, colorless TVs, because that’s all they had. I am comfortable without risk or change. But I’m beginning to think that there are better things than being comfortable. I am tired of my life being colorless.

With that thought Lacey drifts into a dreamless sleep.

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of my story! I hope you enjoyed it. Please comment or give it a vote (or both) if you did! I tried writing in present-tense, which is a little out of my element, but hopefully it's convincing and doesn't seem awkward. I am really excited about this story and can't wait to write more. Thanks again! x ~Lady B