Next to a miscellaneous bundle of yet-to-be-used fabric, a cellphone alarm chimed as its timer ran out, signaling that it was break time for the owner. Bethany leaned back on her seat, now holding the phone in her hand and glancing at the lit screen for a short moment before shutting off the alarm. The British mutant stretched her arms over her head, sighing. Time honestly flew by whenever she was dragged into work, never sure when a minute or fifteen passed by on the clock—and before she knew it, an hour had gone by and her phone had to tell her that periodic movement of the body besides shifting slightly to sew another seam was necessary to her health and overall mortality.
She stood, rubbing the back of her neck and making her way to the kitchen down the hall, mind already set in a mode of habit. Prepare the tea, stretch, pour the tea, get a snack from the refrigerator, sit down and eat, then return to work until the next alarm sounded. The loft was strangely quiet, especially since it was going into the evening. Ramona was probably out at the moment or something like that. Beth switched on the teapot.