BEEP BEEP BEEP
The electronic alarm clock complained from the side table by Jean's head. She groaned, reached down, and unplugged it from the outlet.
She shoved a stained throw pillow over her head to block out the dawning light and fell back asleep.
---
The smell of food wafted up from the tavern downstairs, accompanied by the small clinking and clanging of a good kitchen at work. Jean's stomach was the first part of her to wake up, growling and churning from lack of food. She turned on her side and groped for the alarm clock.
"What?" she muttered groggily, staring at the blank screen. She threw the pillow to the other end of the futon and sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes and arching her back.
She took a couple of steps to the 'kitchen' and checked the microwave clock.
"Holy hell, I slept in for three hours?"
She went to the closet to grab a change of clothes, since she had fallen asleep in her uniform, and went to the bathroom to take a shower.
Her studio apartment was small, but no smaller than she'd expected when she had moved from the farm country to the city. It was a studio, with one 'large' room and a tiny bathroom. She undressed quickly and squeezed past the toilet to get in the shower.
At least the water's hot, Jean thought as she stepped out a handful of minutes later.
After dressing and throwing her still-wet hair in a pony tail, she went to the kitchen to make breakfast.
There was barely any furniture in the large room. A futon mattress on a movable frame, a side table with the unplugged alarm, a cupboard, a mini-fridge/freezer, and a small counter area covered in things for cooking. She went to the freezer, grabbed two toaster strudels, and shoved them in the microwave.
She hadn't bought a toaster yet. If fact, she didn't own anything in the apartment except her clothing, the alarm clock, the pillow, and the blanket. It came with the apartment, along with a slight raise in rent. The price was fair, though.
The landlord was a woman with a crowd of brothers who owned the building. She had two second-story studio apartments, Jean's and the unoccupied one next door, and lived in the top floor herself. Jean often heard the woman coming in at ungodly hours of the night, but didn't think it unusual.
It's called the city that never sleeps, right?
Jean had only been living in the city for about four months, and had failed to meet anyone outside of work who would speak to her. The regulars of the tavern kept snubbing her for some reason she didn't get.
City people, she complained in her mind while munching her toaster strudel. They're such elitists.