Tick tick tick tickyou never wake up lateIt's always 6:55 a.m. before my eyes open. It's the same time since I was 12 and didn't care what I would do with myself. Staying in bed still took a few minutes, as it always does. My body still runs like clockwork and every millisecond while lying down is an opportunity to remember the muscles you have, the clothes you wear, and the fact that your rations will be cold by the time you get to the mess hall. I walk past the mirror to get to it. the closet. It sits 4 feet from the bed and reminds me too much of myself. Cold and calm and with an apathetic steely look that prevents people from making an effort to be with you. They don't look at you, they just want to see each other. The cupboard was wooden, I was always afraid of fire, but it had iron handles and plating on some of the pieces. It looked like a scrap yard rebuild and I wondered who commissioned it. He was given as a gift instead of taking on the role of corporal that was offered to me. It was 4 years ago. Patrol starts in 20 minutes. The lamplighters' uniform was a plain white top, a little dirty and torn but never mine, dark gray pants, grained with finer streaks, thick socks for the cold, thin nights. socks for all other times due to the tendency of boots to rub at the heels. Then came the long coat. The defining feature with a flat collar and gold decorations on its otherwise black material. There are two main holsters for the belt, one for the standard torch and the other for my specialized foal with alchemized bullets. There was a brass chain that led to a pocket watch in the upper left pocket, although I usually preferred to store my own. The dining hall was located 4 corridors further. It's not really painful, but... middle of paper... As we approached the counter, a metallic voice began to chirp. Oddly enough, there was a nicer sound, partly masking it, that sounded slightly like a music box. The source appeared to be a bird shape with its wings clasped upwards but its neck was still open to reveal all the little cogs that made it sing. I let out an impressed breath, I hadn't seen something so complex since the clock tower and it was such a small scale... "Oh, a customer?" The man at the counter looked up with dark circles under his eyes and skin the color of cedar planks. His hair was dark brown, messy and almost certainly completely dirty but he looked young and fit and far too tired for his own good. "I'm here to pick up a package. It was ordered two weeks ago under Hanji." "Military! Oh, that makes sense. Wait a second." He reached towards the desk he was in.