Walking down the hall she peered into the bedroom and saw he was still sleeping. Opening the door slightly more hoping today wasn't the day a creak made its way into the hinges. Looking at the clock beside him she saw it was almost 5:30am and tip toad silently through the room looking for her jeans. Spotting them on top of a pile of clothes on a little wooden antique chair she carefully knelt down to grab them. Putting her right leg into the pants she gritted her teeth while forcing it through. She put her other leg through and forced the jeans up to her butt. "Here comes the hard part," she thought. Then, as quietly as she could, Lily began to jump up and down trying to use gravity to her advantage. As she bounced for the final time her eye caught the arm of her big green hoodie hanging in the closet. “That son of a bitch,” she said low and angrily. Creeping to the closet she saw the hoodie was either hugging another sweater or trying to cop a feel. She couldn't decide. Putting her hands-on opposite sides she slowly spread them apart and unraveled them. The scraping of the hanger hooks made a few screeches sliding along the pole, but he only mumbled and rolled over.
For reasons unknown and the cause of later debate she grabbed the hoodie and tried pulling it down over the hanger. Why Lily just didn't take the hanger off the pole and remove the hoodie instead of taking it off like a ten-year old became the center piece of said debate. Trying to stretch the sweater over the arms of the hanger the tension became greater and greater and she started feeling the anticipation inside her start to grow. She started to become frightened and excited all at the same time.
Suddenly the hoodie goes limp as the hanger snapped back sending it shooting through the air. Soaring overhead it cleared the entire room and hit the far wall.
“Holy shit,” she bellowed out loud then quickly slapped her hands over her mouth.
Falling on to the dresser it knocked over a round cologne bottle with a little echoing clang. Rolling along the dresser to the edge, despite her low whispering prayers the cologne decided to jump anyway. Dropping from the top of the dresser onto the pile of clothes, it rolled off onto a shoe box on the floor. That box was already teetering on a spray can (of what she was not sure) ran downward, about to land on the floor, where it would have come to a stop, but suddenly catapulted into the air (the clothes on the antique chair came tumbling down landing on the opposite side of the box was the culprit). Flying across to the other side of the room then, hitting the wall just above him the cologne bottle dropped. Landing squarely on top of his head.
“Shut the front door,” she gasped in total amazement.
Shooting up from the pillow immediately she could already smell the over powering smell of spilt cologne. “What the hell is going on?” he yelled more instinctively than he did with any type of awareness. His brown hair was ruffled and the static caused it...