Cold by Morning (Flash Fiction)

Cold by Morning by Lora Douglas

Ten, nine, eight, seven.

Harper exhaled as if blowing out each number from her mind. Her steps echoed off the mirrored walls in the cramped, dinky gym. This was the perfect moment. Just her, her breath, her heartbeat and the imaginary road to fame, fortune and abounding success. 

Six, five, four, three…two...one.

Her hand hit the stop button, her feet jumped to edge as the treadmill hummed to a stop. Harper skipped off the machine. It seemed to sigh and lag against the wall.

"Good run old timer." Harper patted the treadmill like a faithful friend. "I ran your ass today, didn’t I? Ten miles ain't bad. Sorry I had to make it a quickie tonight." She laughed causing her sides ached, her legs felt like Jell-O and her muscles screamed in agony. It was glorious.

Harper fixed her high ponytail, stray waves of caramel brown stuck to her face and neck. Sweat rolled down her skin. With a flare, Harper tossed her towel around her neck and strutted across the concrete floor toward the woman's showers. Coming to the apartment complex gym at three o'clock in the morning always meant two wonderful things. First, all the dirty old men were asleep and second there was no line for the shower. Oh and third, she could sing as loud as she wanted. 

A trail of clothes lined the faded yellow tiles from the bathroom door to the showers around the corner. Harper began humming, building momentum and volume. As the hot water heater roared to life sending a spay into the shower stall, Harper busted out,

"I got the whole place to myself, I got the whole place to myself, I got the whole place to myself, yes I got the whole place…to myself!" She laughed her new version of He's Got the Whole World in His Hands. "Funny how childhood religious fantasy songs stuck in your head."  Harper giggled.

She danced under the hot water and steam. Whipping her hair, letting the shampoo suds shoot tiny bubbles.  Striking a dramatic pose, she grabbed her conditioner bottle as a microphone and bellowed verse two "I got the itty bitty shower to myself; I got the itty bitty shower to myself…"

After a round of Baby Got Back and a grand finale of American the Beautiful, Harper switched off the water. Donning her pink and yellow beach towel, she patted around gathering her scattered clothing. Laying the pile on the small wooden bench, she kicked open a locker on the bottom row. She fished out her gym bag and trading her damp clothes for soft, red, Victoria Secret pajamas. Oh, she and Victoria went way back. Every since Harper could by her own clothes, her and Victoria became great friends. 

"Victoria and I share all our secrets." She smiled at her little joke. It was a popular line she could use with a teasing smile or a smoldering gaze.

After she finished changing, she tied the laces of her running shoes and slid out of the women's room into the cool gym. The small box fan on the far wall sputtered and whistled. This was her sanctuary.  Harper sighed and leaned against the wall. The cold concrete crept through her sleep shirt and traced shivers down her back. In here, she could just exist. The smell of rubber and sweat was comforting.  Here she could sweat, grunt, scream, curse and there was absolutely no one to judge her. No expectations. No reason for self-control.  Just one last look at her Merveilleux palais, her wonderful palace and she tightened her grip on strap her bag.

Harper inhaled sharply, pulled her shoulders back and prepared her mind to step back out in the real world. The warm Cali air fit around her like a favorite blanket. The parking lot was still, the only movement was a stray cat strutting down the sidewalk.

"Why didn’t I move here sooner? I can't believe I waste so much of my life in that podunk town." Harper smile and continued her conversation with the evening air. "It almost fall and I am out here before the crack of dawn, in my tank top and shorts. This is the life." She pranced down the pavement adding a twirl for good measure.

This was the life. California, the sun the surf, who would not love this? The question hung in her mind. She loved it here, didn’t she?  It was almost 5 am when Harper got back to her apartment. She locked the door and glided to her bedroom, leaving a trail. The floor creaked with weight of her collapse.  Harper sprawled out and spanned across the push, queen bed. The ceiling fan hummed.  Harper fixed her pale blue eyes on the spinning blades.

"The sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow…" Her faint whisper in the dark. She grabbed a pillow from behind her head and turned hugging the small, satin square. If little orphan Annie could end up happy, then dammit, so could Harper Jane Addison.  Her voice came out a breathy whisper, "There'll be sun. When I'm stuck with a day that’s grey and lonely…"Shadows danced on the ceiling and flowed down the walls. Harper was asleep before she reached the chorus. As far as new beginnings go, this one wasn’t half bad.

He was dead, never to raise a hand at her again and the cops weren’t even looking in her direction. The hint of trail she left would be cold by morning.