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I recover myself and stand up, wiping gravel from my pants. "I'm sorry miss, It's been...a long day." I mumble apologetically. I look at her violet ey...s. They soften as they take in my rugged appearance. "It's alright, I'm sorry I jumped down your throat, I've been having a bad day too." She says lightly patting my shoulder; it feels as though my blood is boiling again, though not from anger, and a feeling a stirring in my jeans. "S'Okay. I'm just glad the coffee didn't burn you too much." I. They’re weren’t so much my parents as they were wardens of my house. Oh, don’t get me started on my house. It was their throne of glory. Glory of how much money they had. It was a dream house, the kind people walk through and dreamed about. Three stories, clean carpets, newly painted walls, a confusing lay out that would get Christopher Colombus lost, stairs every where, chairs no one was allowed to sit in, abstract paintings that looked like a mental patients did them, tables with a layout of. More

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