"You're turning into quite the young lady", my grandmother's words echo in my mind and my laughter chases it through the tunnels of my subconcious. I suppose I am, at that.
Though I still don't quite think "lady" applies yet. I'm still too young for decorum.
I've got one life to live, y'know, and I'm still young enough to enjoy it.
My only regrets are the things I didn't do.
My sleeve still smells of coffee from my walk this morning. Afternoon. What-have-you.
The cup clunked down in front of her with a sense of finality, coming to rest after its 20-minute-long journey. She slept on, oblivious, while the others around her looked at me with creased brow. Asking questions with their eyes.
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