Fashionably Paranoid.

"She wiped down the faceplate of the alarm clock with the corner of her sheets, and she sat up in the partially skewed 11am light. The well-loved timepiece had started to cloud with a few familiar shaped, lip-balm imprints; the hands almost seemed to be cutting through a cherry flavored fog as they counted down her day.

[...]

The stories, myths, and fables, had left a deep imprint on her that no one would be able to alleviate with rational argument. She was blindly convinced, but for now, it suited her. Everyone needs a quirk."