The alarm clock would usually ring for about 20 minutes until she finally turned it off. She'd roll out of bed, her red hair a mess. She'd take a quick shower and blow dry her hair, singing along to the radio. She'd usually have to hurry and grab her bag and guitar, rush out into her car to try to make it to work on time.
She was a high school music teacher. She loved her job. She got to do the one thing she enjoyed most, and help young musicians struggling to find their identity. Her job was her life, but not in a demanding controlling way.
Her sister would always convince her to date, but she just didn't want to. Not since her husband of two years had cheated on her and run off. It had left her heartbroken, and with a few abandonment issues as well. She masked it though.
She was a vibrant soul, wise beyond her years. She could always make a sad person smile. Her music was her gift, and she shared it with everyone in her life. Especially her students, who were like a family to her. Everyone loved her. It was hard not to.
She hated industry. Every time she passed a kiosk with magazines, she'd skip the trashy tabloids and threatening teen reads. She ignored the business moguls who walked the streets of New York like they had bought that particular sidewalk and wanted every one to know.
Every night once she came home from work, she would fix herself and her dog some dinner, before settling down in front of the TV for mindless television. Her life was simple, yet her past complex, keeping a hold of her at all times.
This was her life.