Sweater

Hazel liked getting up early.

Her routine was always different. Sometimes she stayed in her bed, enjoying the warmth of the sun which caressed her skin through the blinds. Other times, she jumped out of bed, ready to kick away whatever challenge life threw at her. After having breakfast, she studied herself in the mirror. Her intense brown eyes smiled back at her. She wasn't exactly vain, but the one thing she loved about her appearance was her hair. She wore it long and unstyled, though she occasionally put it on a ponytail if she needed to. It was chilly outside, so she put on a light pink sweater and a red scarf. The only thing left to do was try to leave the apartment without disturbing her roommates. After carefully waddling through the remains of last night's party, she finally got to the door. She was ready for the day.

She loved her city. If someone were to ask her, Riverworth was one of the best places she'd lived in, with its vibrant streets and lush parks and plazas, the city felt alive, always. Usually, she walked around, drifting wherever the city took her, enjoying the sights and smells. She purchased a coffee at the Café Noir on Peters Avenue, in her opinion, the best and strongest coffee in the whole city. Her hands were grateful for the heat emanating from the coffee cup, for she had forgotten her gloves at home. Her steps eventually led her to the Flying Gardens, called that way as they were spread out across the rooftops of the Civic Centre, which gave stunning views of the city. She took her sketchbook out of her satchel, chose a seat with a good view, and sketched the city, just for fun.

To the west were the leafy suburbs, with colonial-style housing and quiet streets. The suburbs were separated from the city by the Creek River, which snaked through the city from north to south, with its two islands: North Island and Scott Island. North Island was the biggest, and it was there where the city's ceremonies and festivals were held.

Scott island was about three-quarters as big, and it housed the city's biggest park: Allan Park, which was a favourite spot of Hazel's. Sometimes she spent the whole day there, just enjoying the simple beauty of nature. She often drew what she saw, and as a result, the pages of her sketchbook were filled with flowers, trees, and birds.

On the east side of the river was the city centre, which had towering apartment buildings. Hazel could just about see hers, lost in a sea of similar buildings. Directly south of her apartment was Arts Row, nicknamed that way for the galleries and small artist's shops. Hazel was thankful that her favourite art shop was willing to buy off of a seventeen-year-old. Arts Row was her life, literally.

Further east of Arts Row was the grandiose Financial District, which in recent years had been revitalized, with several towering skyscrapers built. Further south still was the port, which had lost much of its importance in the last fifty years, but it had also benefited from the revitalization of the Financial District, and as a result, it was one of the major tourist hubs in the city, with several old ships being transformed into museums, reminiscing the city's era as a large port.

Hazel finished her drawing. She put her sketchbook back in her satchel, threw the empty coffee cup into a rubbish bin and walked down onto the street. As she exited the Gardens, a crowded bus pulled up to the bus stop.

As soon as the doors opened, a boy about her age almost landed on her. He was wearing a black coat and a grey scarf, but what struck her the most was his pale face, highlighted by the darkness of his clothing, making him seem even paler as if he'd seen a dead person. His green eyes were wide with fear, confusing Hazel. The bus looked perfectly fine, didn't it? Poor guy, looked like this morning was not a good one for him. Hazel smiled at him, to which he replied with a brief "sorry" before he kept running away. She followed him with her eyes. She saw him throw one last scared look at the bus before turning into Martin Avenue.

When she turned back around to continue walking, she almost walked into a dishevelled old lady. Hazel looked at her closely. She looked very, very lost, as her eyes were moving from passerby to passerby very quickly. Her attire was the grimiest she's ever seen. To be honest she wouldn't be surprised if the lady's shirt housed a colony of ants, because the lady was incredibly jittery. She looked like she was going to burst any second. Was she lost? Hazel decided she could definitely use some help.

"Excuse me?" she asked, waving to the lady "is everything alright?"

"No, child, everything is going just as I feared it would. The match has been struck, the fire is about to be lit up." the lady replied, shaking her head vigorously. Hazel had to admit she was somewhat wary of this lady. All the same, she tried to help.

"Do you need help? Should I call someone?" Hazel asked

"No!" the lady yelled, startling Hazel and a small flock of pigeons, who flew away into the morning sky. "Trust no one!"

And with that, the lady merged with a crowd of tourists that walked by and disappeared. Hazel felt sorry for the lady. But she couldn't reflect on her pity for long, as a deafening boom rang in the distance.