I jumped up from my bed to race to the window, trying not to fall over the huge pile of to-be-read books stacked up on my floor.

It was always a challenging task to cross my bedroom floor without standing on a hardback classic. My room had gotten so bad a mess that I had forgot what colour my carpet was.

On top of the unread book pile was one that had already been read. Several times. It was a collection of poems by Edgar Allan Poe. The bound poems was one of my favorite things to read. It was a place that I went to over and over again when I wanted to escape the walls of my bedroom.

Perhaps if a one-word speaking raven showed up or a telltale heartbeat appeared underneath me then my life would not be so lonely or mundane.

The books that filled my apartment were my escape from reality. Sometimes I felt like I lived in the pages of the books I read. In the confined space away from the outside world, I was somebody.

It was no secret that fictional worlds were much better than reality. Unless it was a dystopian world.

The only good thing about living in a high block apartment building was the view of the seafront. My street was on a slight inclined hill that overlooked the promenade and ocean.

From my bedroom window, I could see the august sun setting outside. The orange sky was melting into a red horizon beyond the waves.

I stared at the sunset and let out a curse.

"Ella!" Lana sang threateningly from the street below "If you don't get out here in the next two seconds then I am leaving you behind!"

I looked down to see my best friend standing on the sidewalk outside the building. She had her hands on her hip despite the large friendly smile on her face.

Grabbing my black denim jacket from the bed, I quickly rushed along the hallway of my cramped two-bedroom apartment and then I raced down the main stairway of the building.

Lana was patient and it was a good thing to. She had accepted that punctuality was not my strong point. A recurring theme in our friendship was my lateness and her tolerance to it.

A cool bitter breeze hit my face and reddened my nose as I pushed open the door and walked outside.

She greeted me with a faux expression of anger. She appeared more like a cute little puppy with scrunched eyebrows and pout on her face.

"You do know that you don't look scary." I remarked with laugh "A little constipated but not scary."

Both of us began leisurely strolling down the street. Our arms linked together, and I rose a little on my toes that we appeared more the same height.

"Just because you look like The Hulk when you are mad." She giggled, her angry expression history "Especially with that green hair of yours. You are Bruce Banner if he wore a Thrasher t-shirt and black combat boots."