Sloth

I took a deep drag off my cigarette stub then ground it into the mostly filled ashtray at my side. I looked up and blew smoke out of my nostrils, something that had earned me the nickname dragon. From my position in the faded and torn leather arm chair, I watched Corrine out of the corner of my eye, idly crossing and uncrossing my legs. I knew the leather pants I wore pissed her off. Once I found this out, I wore them even more. As I glanced down at my legs I noticed the leather was torn in places, and severely fading. That was a good enough excuse to buy another pair. I watched as Corrine walked away from where she stood at the window and strode in that swanky way of hers towards the kitchen, dark shiny bell of black hair swinging behind her. I heard her footsteps move towards the fridge, a pause, and then the suction of the door opening and I smiled to myself. After it closed again, I called out to her.

“Pour me a drink, eh?” I listened to her stop, set her glass down hard on the counter top, then open the fridge again. I cat stretched and waited for her return, anxious to see what she had brought me. She set the glass down on the peeling, painted wooden end table beside me wordlessly and I looked over. A large shot glass of vodka, and... vodka. I shrugged and took a sip, loving the feeling of the alcohol as it burned down my throat.

“Thanks love.”

No response. She clicked softly away down the hallway towards her room and I wished for the millionth time we hadn’t gotten the apartment with the hardwood floors. I considered putting a carpet in the living room and hallways, or even a throw rug, so I wouldn’t have to listen to her heels on the floor like an animals claws every time she went somewhere. I didn’t know why she insisted on wearing shoes in the house, let alone the foot-wrecking stilettos she did. I shook my head and down another sip of the drink, swallowed slowly, then leaned my head back over the arm of the chair.

Corrine and I never spoke much, unless it was to argue, or decide who was cooking since we moved into together, and too this day, four months later, I’m still not sure why the hell I chose to live with such a... I paused in my thoughts, thinking of how to describe Corrine. Such a different person, I supposed. Corrine was nothing like me. For one, Corrine was beautiful, and she knew it. Her sexiness wasn’t a subtle thing, it was something she pushed on everyone that came near her. Corrine was irritable, tidy, and uptight, where as I... I was the polar opposite. She found this out ten minutes after we moved in together, and I remember the day well. I’m fairly sure it was one of the day’s she regretted most in her life. That, and the day she slept with Chase. For those who had heard the story of Corrine and Chase, but didn’t know Corrine, made it unbelievable. Those who did know Corrine knew just how believable it was.

One fine summer day, about the middle of August, if I had remembered correctly, there was a party- a back to college sort of thing. For Corrine, it was her first year of college, her chance to prove herself, to be accepted. Corrine set out to get herself a reputation, and a public personality, but unknowingly to her, she walked away with so much more than that.

Another week-long relationship for one, and a online sex tape of her and Chase in his the back of his garage. Most people assumed she had gotten Herpes along with it as a package deal, but anyone who really knew Chase knew that he was picky about his girls and wouldn’t sleep with a cheap ho for a quick fix.

From the next day on, Corrine had a reputation all to her own.

Lust

Her name was Kristine. We called her Franken-stine. To this day I can still never figure out what demon provoked me into taking her into my apartment. Really, I see no logic in it.

It all started one day when my previous room-mate left. I was left with massive bills I couldn’t afford on my own, hours spent alone in the fairly large apartment- though nice at first they left someone feeling rather empty- and one clear choice. The next day, I put an ad in the paper. I wanted someone serious, dedicated to their work, preferably rather nerdy, you know, someone who was the polar opposite of me. I wanted someone who wouldn’t wreck up my apartment, someone who would have massive, floor-shaking parties and get me busted by the cops. That was my job.

Somehow between the process of placing the add, and accepting the offer, I found Kristine. I discovered then I was somewhere in the middle. There was the serious, studious type, then there was me. On the other hand, there was Kristine. Obnoxious, sarcastic, grind-your-teeth in annoyance, lazy. Everything she did irritated you to your very bone marrow, her mocking voice like fingernails on a chalk board. It made me want to scream. For once, I was doing the majority of the house work. I cleaned, I cooked, I bought new things for the apartment.

Kristine was the wrong kind of opposite.

Yet I still can’t seem to have the sense to get rid of her. I’ve thought about it for hours at a time, but eventually, I think my need to have friends and be around people drop-kicked my common sense around the world.

I took a sip of my mocha-latte and picked at a nail. It was rare you’d fine me lazing around in my house on a Saturday afternoon, but today my brain felt like mush, and sitting idly, channel-surfing was all that I seemed to be able to accomplish. After watching Oprah, downing a third coffee, and managing to dress my self, I finally found two synapses to rub together and began my homework.

Chapter One: How to find the ideal client.

Wrath

“Yolly!”

I felt the rage bubble up inside of me. Yolly. I hated the name. I wanted to wreck that bitch up.

Step One: Assess the anger. Where is it coming from?

I shook my head in annoyance and clenched my fists. No one messed with a Queens girl.

Step Two: Why does this bother you?

The stupid bitch knows I don’t like being called Yolly. My name was bad enough, but unless she wanted to keep her pretty face the way it way, she had better be keepin’ her mouth shut.

Step Three: Breathe in deeply, and count to f-

“Yolly! Hey, Yolly!”

I rolled my eyes and knocked her unconscious.

Immediately arms wrapped around me.

“Yolanda, you know that’s not how you’re supposed to handle your anger.” I spat on the ground and fought enthusiastically against them, as usual. One arm broke free, two more grabbed me. I sighed as I was forced down into a chair. Behind the mob of people now around me, I could see that stupid girl being carted away on a stretcher. I smirked on the inside, but left my face blank. The feelings of rage inside me subsided and left me simmering gently. My counsellors stood a short distance away, probably too afraid to come any closer, and studied me with shocked looks on their faced. One of them shook their heads, knowing all the progress we had made was null. Then I heard a familiar voice.

“Yolanda?”

I looked up, and jerked my head to show I was listening, pushing braids out of the way with the back of my hand.

“Just... go home,” my least-hated therapist, Carter, said. I could see the muscles of his face working furiously to stop him from laughing aloud. I raised my eyebrows and stood, causing at least three people to take a step back.

“Worried about me?” I asked with a feral grin.

“I’ll book you for a double appointment next week,” he said. Right away he took out a pen and paper and scribbled furiously. I smiled, already looking forward to antagonizing him and his so called team of specialists.

“Sure thing, Carty,” I drawled as I dragged my wind breaker back on and body-checked the front door open.

The autumn air was warm, but the wind bitting cold. I drew my jacket further around me and huddled close to the buildings along the main street as I walked, keeping out of the wind as much as possible. I walked with my head down and I noticed people avoiding my gaze as I walked. A reflection of myself in a window caught my glance- I had a black eye and didn’t notice. Someone must have punched me when I had hit that stupid girl.

I fought down frustration and the urge to kick the shit out of the next person that passed, and ordered a large hot dog with everything on it from a vendor on the street.

Avarice

One, two, three... I chain poured coffee into nine cups like one of those Coyote Ugly baretenders. I added cream and sugar in half of them, and only cream into a few others. I t was like a game of hot potato between myself and the customers, passing drinks and money at an insane speed.

Oh how I loved morning rush-hour at Starbucks. I reached for another paper cup and began to fill it. My mind drifted.

“Get it together lady!”

“Shit,” I swore a little too loudly as I snapped back and slopped coffee all down the front of my apron. “I’m very sorry sir,” I said in my best, customer-pleasing voice while the man simmered with early morning frustration. I tried not to smile as I put the lid on his skim-milk, no-fat, extra foam latte and slid it across the counter.

“Five seventy-five,” I said as I opened the till. He was already passing me the precise change- a practiced customer. He even ordered his medium drink by ‘tall’ and not ‘medium’ like the other eighty precent of the english speaking world.

As soon as th eman left with his drink, I began to fight to get my uniform arpon off. I yelled into the back room.

“Katie, get your ass out here! My shift is done!”

Katie came towards me looking rather frumpy as she clipped up her blonde hair and turned her back to me so I could ti eher apron.

I grinned and ran out the front door, slinging my bag over my shoulder. The last of the rush-hour stragglers poured into the warm, coffee-sceneted building as I stepped onto the sidewalk and pulled my black cloack further around me.

The day was gorgeous. The wind was a bit cool blowing on the back of my neck, but I pulled up my hood and shoved my hands in my pockets as I kept walking. Leaves cruched under my feet as they skittered by. The roads were blanketed in leaves since the storm tore them all from the branches. I sighed, glad to be done work until at least six or seven tonight. The air smelled like Toronto normally did- diesel fuel, cigarette smoke and hotdogs.

As I stepped to avoid a man curled up on the side of the road playing the voilin for money a short, strong body crashed into me, throwing into a vendor’s cart.

The vendor looked shocked as I apologised. Both the other girl and I looked back at eachother as we passed. She had a black eye and bleach-blonde hair braided into many tiny braids. I thought they looked like shakes coming out of her skull.

A strong gust of wind blew and I felt the metal of my eyebrow ring of icy cold. I turned into the closest shop, ready to indulge.

Pride

The taste of the coffee was amazing as it flowed over my tongue, regardeless of the fact that it felt like lava to my insides. I leaned my head back against the back of the park bench and let the warm drink brace me against the wind that was getting increasingly colder by the minute. I could feel it, smell it on the air- a winter storm was coming. The snow wouldn’t last of course. It would snow many times, but the polluted heat of Toronto would stop it from building up for a while yet. Of crouse in a couple months it would stay, puling up in dirty heaps on the side of the road.

I shuddered and downed the last of the coffee, snuggling deeper into my Burberry coat.

I enjoyed watching people pass me, and the groups of pidgeons that trouped past my feet. It wasn’t often I relaxed on a Saturday. In fact, it wasn’t often that I ever relaxed. Even now right this minute my logical brain was trying to sway me into doing homework or going to work instead of sittting around and being an unproductive lump.

For the time, my logical brain lost. I decided there was nothing better to do at this exact moment and stood, lobbing my paper cup into the nearest trash can. I would get another later. I ducked my head down against the wind, knowing it would turn my long hair into a complete, frizzy disaster. I walked for a short while, enjoying pretended that I had spare time until I came to a shop I hadn’t been in before. From what I’d heard, the artsy drama type people shopped here alot. I shrugged and pushed the door open, glad for a momentary, refuge from the wind.

I hardly heard the bells attached to the door jangle as I entered and rubbed my hands together, wishing I had thought to wear gloves.

For a Saturday morning the store was fairly crowded. It was larger than I expected, with both an upstairs for more clothing and a basement for storage.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Oh no, I’m fine thanks, just browsing,” I replied, looking up into the face of the greeter. She smiled broadly at me showing white, ever teeth. Her hair frizzed out around her head in a series of extremely small ringlets. She looked like a hyperactive poodle.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” she said, and moved to greet the people who had entered behind me. I nodded and pushed further into the store.

The first thing I notcied was everything in the shop was classy, but I saw some interesting pieces. The second thing I noticed was the prices. I lifted the tag of a camisole- ninety dollars.

A girl brushed passed me, her arms full of various pieces of clothing. She was about the same height as I was, about five-eight, but I couldn’t see her face because her hood was pulled up over her head.

“Excuse me,” she muttered as she grabbed a black shirt off the rack behind me. She examined it for a moment then put it back and kept walking. I turned to look at what she grabbed. It was a slinky black turtleneck with what looked like silver embroidery of japanese flowers on the side.

What the hell, I thought to myself, and grabbed it. I might as well try something new. I stood in line behind the girl and glances at the items in her arms. A red turtleneck, a pair of black jeans, and a pair of capri’s that were grey and black plaid. Her hood fell as she reached into her picket for money. Her hair was hort black, and styled in a straight, punk-y sort of way. It was longer on one side, long enough to attempt to tuck behind her ear, which she did as she pushed a few hundred dollar bills across the counter. I saw a glimmer of an eyebrow ring and I cringed. Facial piercings were disgusting. I myself only had my ears pierced once, and most of the time I wore small gold sleeper hoops.

The girl’s purchases were tucked neatly into the bad, and then she left without a word. She had the satisfied swagger of a newly pleased shopper.

I put the sweater on the counter and waited while the cashier scanned the sweater. I preached for my purse, and that’s when I realised it wasn’t hanging at my hip.

I swore and ran out of the shop, throwing an apology over my shoulder.

Envy

Shoes. Gorgeous shoes. I sat in the food court of the local mall, swilling a stir stick idly through my hot chocolate. As people walked by, I watched their feet, big feet, small feet, feet hidden under rolls of ankle fat that should have been hidden by pants, but were instead exposed by pants that were an inch too short. Over these feet of course were shoes. I didn’t like the feet themselves, but I love looking at people’s shoes. To me, it was some sort of morbid fascination. Looking at people’s shoes told me so much about the person. I watched closely as someone clicked by in tall, four-inch heels made of bright pink strappy buckles. Their toes were painted a light coral mixture of orange and pink and I smiled. Nicely groomed feet made my day.

The next person that walked by made me cringe. The tattered cuffs of army print pants dragged over faded beige skater shoes that were stained, and punctured with holes. I had a sudden urge to rip the shoes from the poor man’s feet and give him something nice, a nice pair of dress shoes, or casual sandals.

I finished my drink and began the walk back to the university. I shivered with excitement as I watched the last remaining leaves drift to the ground, knowing it meant the changing of seasons. It wasn’t the weather I cared about, and I sure as hell wasn’t anticipating the snow and cold. It did, however, mean the change of the fashion season. Gorgeous new winter and fall lines would be coming out, and of course that meant more shoe watching for me. I grinned to myself just thinking about boots.

Out of all the different types of shoes one could personally wear, boots were my favourite. They came in every style imaginable, in every colour, and each boots gave such a different style. With tennis shoes, you could only give so many different impressions- tennis shoes were tennis shoes, but with boots… There were leather boots, suede boots; boots that went to the ankle, knee, thigh; boots that laced, boots that buckled and boots that zipped. And the infamous boots that made you look like you should be standing on the corner late at night, offering your… services to the world.

I slowly drifted away from my usual thoughts of shoes as I walked through the university campus, towards the apartments. I passed a large girl sitting under a tree on a fleece blanket, with a bag of Hersey’s Kisses at hand. She shovelled them into her mouth, staring off into nothingness with an expression that looked like her life was about to be sucked into the abyss. I glanced down at her feet, and saw they were bare. I found myself feeling disappointed when there were no shoes to admire. Instead, I stared at her feet for a moment. She had long feet, with long toes, and a second toe that was considerably longer than the first. I jerked my thoughts away from her feet as I came up to the apartment building. I shared a room with Elise Bell. At first I thought she was sort of weird, but she wasn’t all that bad. She seemed like one of those artsy-drama type people, and she wore alot of black and turtlenecks. She never made herself look like a goth though, which I thought was good. Her style was okay, and at least wasn’t bargain basement style. Elise was a good roommate. She did her jobs, though there were always photographs lying everywhere, and she didn’t argue, or party. I thought she was fairly quiet.

And she has this really nice pair of shoes, too.

I pulled off my own boots, suede, and beige and with lace and left them neatly at the foot of my bed. Immediately, as my own compulsive ritual whenever I came home after school, I lit the three tall pillar candles on my bed stand and flopped down onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

That was when my curtains went up in flames.

Gluttony

I leaned back against the tree, breathing in deeply between mouthfuls of chocolate. I crossed my legs together, curling and uncurling my toes. I stared at the trees before me, or rather stared past the trees. For a while, it was like I was seeing them but not really seeing them. The leaves slid out of focus and all I saw was a series of brilliant orange, red and yellow blurs. Then the wind would gust and the trees would shift and I would focus again.

Immediately, I shoved another Hershey’s Kiss into my mouth and chewed solemnly, watching as the last of the leaves spiralled to the ground. My eyes subconsciously followed their paths to the ground and I stared at them for long after they settled, looking at all the different shapes and patterns and colours, and those funny little red and green bumps that some of the leaves got that I personally though looked like sprinkles.

Then a girl walked past and the leaves were disturbed, flying up around her suede boots. As I looked slowly up her body, wishing I could have a figure like hers, I noticed she was watching me, looking at me.

Again I struggled to fish another chocolate from the bag, loving indulging, but at the same time, hating myself for it completely. I followed the line of her eyes and…

Was she staring at my feet? I wiggled my toes, my strange, long, fat toes and tore the wrapper off of the chocolate. Only after she had completely passed by me did I tuck my feet back under my legs, my toes finally feeling the cold of outside. I leaned my head back against the tree again and sighed, my raspy breath in tune with the sigh of the wind.

Slowly, I let myself fall into a meditative state, forgetting everything except the lingering taste of the chocolate in my mouth and the soft tickle of the wind through my hair. I could see the strand of light brown as they fell gently over my face and I smiled to myself as everything else drifted away.