She stood on a street with cheap, dollar store sunglasses perched on her proud nose. Her chestnut hair was coiffed into a curled mane using plastic curlers. She pressed her dark purple lips together, the waxy material on her dry lips cracking uncomfortably. Her lime green eyes squinted at the traffic lights across the sidewalk. The sun's heat clung to her hair, her skin, her white, flowy sundress. She was slowly being baked alive on this sunny day. She sighed, her thin body wilting slightly.
"Happy Anniversary, Everett," she muttered quietly. A large, sugary cinnamon roll rested in her palm. It was wrapped in paper by the bakery but the sun's warmth had melted the glaze inside. The pastry was sticky against the slick sweat of her palm. She sighed, desolately staring at the traffic light as it flashed with the pixelated image of a person.
Her black cat heels click-clacked against the hot asphalt. Her shoes scorched her skin in this heat. She gazed at the sky. It was a fresh canvas. It's expanse was blank, open, wide, and welcoming. She wished she was a balloon. She wanted to float away into its oblivion.
A sharp jolt suddenly tore her out of her daydream. The loud crash of plastic and glass, and a pained groan awoke her senses.
A wiry man had crumpled to the ground. His spectacles had shattered on the asphalt, along with... the cinnamon roll.
"Oh no," she cried in frustration. What will Everett think? It was the first time they had finally gotten together for an anniversary after 3 years.
Her phone startled her with a ping.
"Sorry darling I can't come this time. Work." she read, her eyes registering the frowny face emoji that followed. She deflated. Her face flushed red with embarrassment. She chided herself for trying to find hope in him again.
"Hey, lady," she heard a pained mumble from the ground. She shifted her eyes to a dark, curly haired man on the asphalt. His thin fingers pointed in the general direction of his glasses.
She picked up his glasses, a sudden pang of sympathy flooding into her heart. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going and-"
An amused chuckle cut off her ramblings. The man raised his head. She noticed one of his chocolate brown eyes was covered with a cottonball. "It's alright," an easy smile lit up his handsome face.
"How can I make it up to you?" she replied worriedly.
"You can simply take me out to dinner," laughter lingered in his voice, "By the way, my name's Joseph but most people call me 'Cotton-Eyed Joe'."
He offered her his outstretched hand. She shook it. "Nice to meet you," happiness flooded into her for the first time in 5 years.
Later:
"Who are you?!" a voice shrieked at the other end of the phone.
Cotton-Eyed Joe studied his fingernails. "That depends, are we still up for pineapple toppings on our deep-dish pizza?"
"What- I mean what are you doing with my girl?!" the deep voice bellowed at the other end of the line.
"Now, now," Cotton-Eyed Joe reassured airily, "There's no need to be constipated. Me and Joanna are just doing Netflix and chill." He stared back at the TV in the living room as the sharp notes of the X-Files theme played.
"What?!" Cotton-Eyed Joe winced, running his fingers through his dark hair. Joanna raised her head from the couch, her hair in a bun and the sequins on her footie pajamas sparkling when she gestured to the phone. Her eyebrows arched in question.
Cotton-Eyed Joe nodded. Joanna made a slicing gesture across her throat and pointed to the phone. He smiled warmly in agreement.
"Now, Netflix and chill-" the voice continued sharply. A simple tap of a finger halted the booming voice. And blocked the number.
He slid his phone into silent mode and left it on the kitchen counter. He raised his head, taking in Joanna's adorable and tired smile. "Now," he mimicked, "where were we?"
Their laughter rang in the night for hours.