Make Some History

"I need to go shopping," Amy muttered to herself, laying on her bed in a spread eagle position.

It was a Saturday, meaning it was the day she could lounge around the house or stay in bed until one in the afternoon and not do anything at all. Those were the days she cherished, but the dwindling amount of food in the refrigerator and her cupboards were bothering her. Sighing in agitation (she really just wanted to stay home all day, but grown-up chores were a must), she got out of bed, showered, and got ready to leave.

When Amy had first gotten this car, there had been plenty of people who warned against it. Parts were hard to find, it could break down easier, and was super expensive, but Amy absolutely refused to give up her beloved '67 Chevy Impala.

Smooth leather interior, sleek black paint job, and the faint smell of perfume and smoke from it's last owner that the blonde couldn't really get rid of--Or wanted to. Amelia loved the vintage car and everything it was.

Until it broke down.

"Dammit," she mumbled, kicking the front wheel with her shoe.This was a mistake, as she had flip flops on and managed to hurt her toes. She cursed a bit more, then groaned. She was only a couple miles out away from her apartment, but those miles were awfully long and the sun was beginning to set. She didn't want to have to walk back in the dark.

imagine aph canada looking in the mirror one morning and he's all serious and says

"I

"Carry on my wayward son!

There'll be peace when you are done!

Lay your weary head to rest,

Don't you cry no more!"

Amy used to mop she had in her hands as a guitar, trying to mimic the current solo in the song by said instrument. The speakers she had plugged into her laptop were blaring the song as she cleaned; There was no way in hell Amy could clean without music. It made her feel like her chores weren't chores and overall made it more fun.

"Dundundundundun dun, dun, dun, dun," she mumbled, trying to sound out the rifts of the solo, dancing around her kitchen.

It didn't occur to her that she might've been too loud for the other tenants of the apartment building--She was enjoying herself too much to care. That is, until the music began to fade away to a quieter verse did she hear the angry-sounding knocking on her door.

"Shit," she muttered, throwing her mop down and running to pause her music. She went to open her door, facing a girl she had never met.