Walking Canvas

You know that moment when nothing seems to be going right? Like stubbing your toe on a piece of furniture, not being able to find matching socks and poking yourself in the eye with eyeliner.
Sound familiar? That's how my day has been so far. The thing that made it all better was when the post arrived and I didn't see the familiar white envelope from my dad. This is the first time he hasn't sent me a birthday card and I got an odd sense of relief from it. Maybe he was finally getting the message.

'Knowing my luck it'll probably arrive tomorrow in all its cursive glory. The postal system probably messed up'.

I had no time to dwell on my thoughts as mum called me downstairs.
As soon as my foot touched the slightly worn carpet of the hallway, mum thrust some money in my hands, muttering something along the lines of needing milk. She quickly returned to her phone conversation, leaving me to grab my coat and head out of the door.

...

Turning into our road, milk in hand, I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled my hood further over my face, shielding myself from the onslaught of rain. Not long until I can get in my pajamas and watch Sherlock. Benedict Cumberbatch really is a god.

...

The slamming of the door must have alerted my mum to my arrival but she obviously chose to ignore it as I made my way over to the fridge, where I placed the milk.
Turning around, I spotted something leaning against the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. Upon a very brief inspection I recognised it as a card. More specifically a card from HIM.
Not caring to be careful, I ripped the envelope open and read the message inside, already knowing what words my eyes were going to glance over.

Lucy
Hope you have a good birthday.
Thinking of you as always,
Dad
Xxx

It's the same every year.

As I scanned over the envelope I noticed something odd. There wasn't an address on it. How the hell did it get here?

"MUM?!" I yelled out to the eerily silent house. She'll probably know.

It came as no surprise when I heard her response coming from the living room. What did come as a surprise, however, was the shockingly familiar red head who was awkwardly perched on our sofa.

My brain stopped functioning properly. What the heck is going on? He shouldn't be here. Through my confusion and anger I managed to verbally voice one question.

"What the FUCK is he doing here?!"

----

Notes

First chapter. Should I continue? Yay or nay. For the purpose of this story, Frank and Jamia aren't together. Don't get me wrong, I do love them but it doesn't work with the story :)
I know it's short but it's just a starter chapter x
R&R maybe?? xoxo

-----