Apples and Artwork

She smelled like apples, although her hair was the color of coffee with just a bit too much creamer in it. She would have thought that she would have smelled of hazelnuts and vanilla. She turned in her sleep, the corners of her mouth shifting downward in a sharp frown, but she smiled at the way the dappled sunlight fell upon her skin.

And then she pounced. “Time to get up, Anna!” she shouted as Anna shrieked, tumbling off the bed and landing painfully on her back on the hardwood floor.

“Why do you DO that?!” she snapped, rubbing her aching back as she glared at the younger woman.

“Because you’re already about an hour late and you’ve got to prepare for your gallery opening?”

With that, Anna was up. She stumbled as she  attempted to disentangle herself from her bedsheets, falling once again before she ran to lock herself in the bathroom.

“God, Danny, you’re such a brat!” she grumbled through her toothpaste as she rushed about the bedroom with the toothbrush still hanging from her mouth, searching for clean clothes. She didn’t find any, so she settled for a pair of old paint-stained jeans and her favorite sweater.

“Could say the same to you, miss-I-can’t-get-out-of-bed-unless-it’s-after-one-p.-m,” Danielle snorted, sipping her coffee as she watched her roommate rush about.

“You could have at least woken me up on time!”

“I’m not your alarm clock, you know,” Danielle replied with a giggle.

When Anna finally presented herself before her, she still had a bit of paint from the previous night’s work smeared on her cheek, having either not noticed or been in such a hurry that she didn’t bother to scrub it off. Danielle suppressed a peal of laughter at the sight that was presented to her as Anna tried to run a brush through her hair, despite the fact that it looked like some kind of animal had made its nest there, adding in bits of dried paint and twigs to the mixture of snarls.

“You’ve got paint on your face.”

“I do?” Anna sighed heavily, raising her hands to the heavens and falling dramatically to her knees. “Why can I never look dignified?!” she said, giving a fake little sob for effect.

“Because you’re always working yourself until you pass out, and then when you get up you’re always late for something?”

“Well there is that.” Anna was on her feet, snatching up a granola bar and a water bottle as she made for the door, one arm halfway through the wrong sleeve of her coat.

“You left your keys on the table.”

“I wouldn’t be able to function without you,” Anna said with a grin as she took the keys from Danielle’s extended hand, then stepped forward and gave her a quick hug.

“Seeya later!” she called cheerily from the front of their apartment, before slamming the door loudly. The sound was shortly followed by the crash of one of the picture frames on the wall falling to the floor.

Danielle grinned. In that respect, Anna was right.

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