The soft vibrations of her alarm shook Tracey from her sleep. She scootched out of her sleeping bag, standing and raising her arms to the morning sun. Sure, it was freezing up there, but she could see everything from her rooftop hiding place. The streets and buildings rolled out before her, dusty rose smoke billowing up from chimneys and the occasional fire.
She padded down the ladder in her bare feet, swung through the window, and landed in her apartment. Calling it an apartment was a bit of a stretch; all the furniture looked threadbare, and she didnβt have much in the way of decorations. She cast a glance around the room and smirked. No rugs or cutesy aesthetics here.
But what Tracey did have was much more beautiful, at least to her. An army of spray paint cans stood guard beneath the beautiful chaos covering the walls. Graffiti had started as a casual hobby, something to do to push back against the authorities, but once it turned into an emotional outlet, she found that she couldnβt stop. Ever since sheβd discovered this place, she'd been gradually transforming each wall.
Tracey picked up one of the paint cans and shook it thoughtfully, pacing up and down in front of one of the living room walls. Something about it had been off for a while, itching at her peripheral vision every time she walked by. She squatted down, took a few steps back, tilted her head to try and see it from every angle. Suddenly, her face lit up like a ray of sunshine.
She scooped up a can of paint in each hand, studied the wall for a moment more, then dived in. For a few minutes, she broke the morning silence with the sound of hissing paint and soft footsteps. Tracey almost danced back and forth in front of the wall, her movements graceful and sure, a focused expression on her face. After she finished, she took a step back, removed her mask, and smiled.
I fixed it.
Author Notes: feedback please :)
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