Fae Rogers
Her apartment, Central Slums
Beams of midday sunlight filtered through a wide, dirty window and illuminated many small particles cascading through the very dusty air within a certain small apartment. A few more small sun beams that had pierced their way through holes in another window, this one boarded up with pieces of scrap plywood, fell on the brightly colored petals of the lilies and pansies growing alongside marijuana plants in a makeshift greenhouse constructed up against one of the walls. A half-eaten bowl of cup noodles sat on the kitchenette counter next to a sink of dirty dishes, adding to the messy atmosphere of the room dyed sepia by years of sun damage and cigarette smoke.
Ripples moved through the coagulating oily broth in the Styrofoam cup as something hit the wall of the adjacent room, and moments later the door in the wall was flung wide open. A rather short girl wearing a tank top, torn up jeans and a pair of cracked chemist’s goggles came running out of the subsequent cloud of off colored smoke, coughing profusely and waving her gloved hands about her face in an attempt to dispel the fumes. She stumbled over to the window, thanking the Lord once again that there was no fire sprinklers installed in her hazard of an apartment building, and flung open the dirty frame. Once the smoke had dispelled, she slid the goggles up off of her eyes, which were smudged with their typical blue liner, and sat them on the plume of dyed hair atop her head. Looking a little dumbfounded by the occurrence, she stared into the small room attached to the main apartment space, wafts of smoke still flowing from the door. “Well…” She mumbled to herself. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
This was but another one of Fae’s failed experiments, not a particularly rare occurrence, but usually less spectacular. Resolving to try again tomorrow, she cleaned up as well as she was able, collecting pieces of shattered glass beakers and making sure that the progress of her working projects weren’t disturbed. Sure, this job was more than a little dangerous in more ways than one, but in her opinion it would always rank leagues above sitting in an office, working tirelessly to put money in some greedy snub's pockets.
It wasn’t long after this incident, that the young drug dealer threw on a thin hooded jacket and pair of boots with worn down soles, and decided to head out on her rounds. It was a bit of a daily routine for her to walk around the slums of Los Angeles, meeting new and regular customers, and just generally socializing as she pleased. There was something about the company of the people living in this area that made the experience of merely interacting with them a very interesting experience. Maybe it was the rawness of their personalities, or the fact that they always seemed to have the most interesting stories to tell, but it made the days more flavorful.
Her faded grey gym bag containing samples of assorted wares and a few of her personal belongings was the last item to be thrown around her small frame before the headed out the creaking door and down the perpetually dirty steps to the lobby. Upon exiting the building, she squinted into the bright sunlight and felt a thin smile appear on her chapped lips. “Such a nice day…”