She's Found She's Lost

It's all rather bland. Signa's apartment was a very washed out cream color. The walls and ceiling had cracks that screamed, with a shrill, their aching history. In her living room a few framed pictures of friends and family, each collecting a snowfall-like amount of dust along the sil of each frame. A 4 foot oval of rat inviting gaps of wooden slates shown through her ceiling, the plaster fell down a few weeks ago and is yet to be concerning the landlord. The musky mint green love seat facing the television and doorway at first seems inviting but upon sitting is obviosly a cheaply made IKEA knock off. While the blood red wool carpet is barely overlooked by the space heater and coffeetable filled with daily trash, homework, food and a computer.
Signa drew open the curtains of the 3 windows in her living room. It was bright out, but the overcast kind of bright: Foggy, misty, dreary, but still alive and light. Colors seem to pop in this kind of whether. The bright yellow house with the red cement basement could have stood as a lighthouse on these rainy days. The ferry wasn't leaving quite as often today, which didn't bother Signa much at all, the ferry horn gets annoying with it´s hourly wail. Even as much as Signa hears the ferry horn or the fire station alarm just a half block away it still startles her.
As Signa packed finely ground flakes of marijuana into her 'alligator' pipe, she thoughts about how nice it would be to finish college and start something new.