Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!!

Of course Skygge would pull something like this. It was absolutely typical. She knew Aine had forgotten today was Wednesday. Aine sighed as she rushed to her room, looking for her suitcase.

It was a nice enough room, really. A squishily comfortable queen sized bed with a fleece, autumn leaf pattern, orange drapes floating around it. A fairly decent sized mirror on the closet door, a small walk-in closet with good spacing, and even a desk facing the window wall, which Aine could sit at with a warm mug of coffee as she watched the sun set.

I guess Skygge spoils me too much, Aine thought as she perused the contents of said closet; her suitcase (which she found under her bed) open and on the floor. Her entire wardrobe consisted of quality comfortable clothing, and some cheaper comfort clothing as well. In the corner, a decent size foot of area were brand names, such as Versace, Prada, and two of her (secret) personal favourites, Valentino, and Givenchy. 

Aine never actually wore any of the fancy clothes. She didn't need them, they were fragile, and they were more likely to get her mugged. It didn't help that she didn't own a car either, so there was no way for her to avoid situations such as being mugged. 

Now that I think about it. . .  Aine glanced at the closet. Will there be anything fancy during their stay? 

Grabbing her phone, she dialed up her girlfriend, who answered right away. There was a small smirk on Skygge's face as she answered Aine's unasked question. "Yes, there will be formal events. I think you didn't hear me when I said months." 

Aine paused. Oops.

Skygge must've known the face Aine was making, because she burst out laughing. "C'mon Awnny, just pack 'em 'shadow style'! Y'know, half of the suitcase should be your favourite 'expensive' clothes, and the other half should be your comfort clothes." Aine smiled softly. The term 'shadow style' was a reference to both Skygge's name, as well as the way she packed. Her name was Danish for shadow, and that was how she packed every suitcase; ever.

Shaking her head, Aine let out a sigh. "Okay. Any of the rich-pitch clothes?"

"Any. See you tomorrow, radiant."

"Bye black bunny." Aine smiled as she hung up. At least now she knew what to pack. Turning back to her closet, Aine grabbed about 14 different hoodie sets. She smiled as she put them away, reminiscing in the memories each of them had.

That's the way it was with Aine. Everything had something around it. A memory, an. . .aura, you could say. She wore different things on different days, the mood she felt expressed in some way by her appearance; whether it was the book she was carrying or the way she styled her hair, or even the socks she was wearing.

 Aine was an emotional person. She was an emotional and spiritual person and she felt deeply and thought deeply in, of, and about the world around her. Aine made connections, and kept to those connections.

After her casual comfort clothes were packed safely, nicely, and cleanly in the left half o her suitcase, she returned to the closet and removed clothes from the (labeled, courtesy of Skygge) sections of her favourite brands. Though she didn't wear them often, Aine had to admit that the clothes from there were absolutely mavourneen. 

Once those clothes were nicely packed, Aine checked the time. 

8:40pm. Wow. The last time she had checked it was around noon. Had she really spent so much time folding the clothes? I guess Skygge has more of an influence on me than I would like to admit.

All of her clothes were packed, including regular necessities, and after some personal debating, even some swimsuits. Everything was ready. Aine surveyed her work proudly. Two suitcases; one an actual suitcase, the other a carry-on bag. One filled with clothes, the other filled with books, and she had gotten it all done in one day. 

As to be expected, however, Aine also hadn't eaten during that whole period, and by now her stomach was complaining loudly. It wasn't that Aine never ate, or was fat; she just had a high metabolism, snacked a lot, and was a bottomless pit. 

As a particularly loud rumble emitted from her stomach, Aine sighed and took a look in the mirror. Was she presentable enough to go for a walk around the town, maybe just some quick McDonalds? 

Her normally untangled deep (dyed) purple hair hung in a messy and ratty bun at the top of her head, her gray-and-grey striped hoodie had ketchup stains from the spilt packets she had been nibbling on earlier that week, and her jeans had dirty brown stains from the manure she had helped clean out of the stalls from the horse pins earlier the previous day. 

I guess that's good enough.

Grabbing her phone from off of the end table, Aine made her way out of her apartment. Apartment 425b, floor 17. Wonderful view really.

Well, that is if you ignore the fighting couple, the eternally partying and horny college kids (whose parents seem to have forgotten their existence and don't give a damn), and  the rude lobbyist. 

Once on the streets, Aine took a deep breath of the clean, crisp autumn air. It was one of her favourite seasons after all. 

Cars honked in the busy street traffick, Aine watching them as she walked by. It was always busy where she lived, and this hour was one of the worst. Upon arrival at the nearby café, Aine ordered a hot chocolate and a lemon crepe. 

Now it was just time to wait for tomorrow evening, when all of the excitement would happen.