Hi.
As a story is soon to end, I had this brilliant idea.
Ideally a short story.
So less than 10 chapters.
Don't hate me for neglecting the others to start a new one. I know how many in-progress stories I have. Don't come for me.
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She.
She came around the corner, a small smile on her face as she looked at the familiar business on her usual morning route. She took the 78 bus that was running a bit earlier so she was taking in all the noise, people and smells around her. The café they usually met at 9AM being her targeted destination, less than a block away.
Her dress flew around her caves as the unusual May weather was taking her by surprise. Her arms pricked with a chill as her thin cardigan did no avail.
'What a gloomy day.' She thought to herself.
Checking her phone, five minutes till nine, she decided to wait on him outside instead of their usual corner table. She could go inside and order them their usual drinks, but she was usually the one late. She hummed the same tune she overheard a street performer a couple blocks away jam away.
Again she looked down, he should have been here by now. He was usually very punctual. She smiled to herself. That was the first little argument about her time management. She lived on deadlines, and was always on the clock with herself as her journalism job taught her. But getting anywhere in a timely manner was always a flaw she's had. Since her younger days, she has never been able to get anywhere on time. Her friends thought it was quirky.
He did not find it amusing, as he was a private therapist. Time is all he knew. He knew how to count the second in minutes, and always be precise. She laughed at the way the little vein by his temple flared as he expressed how someone nearing their 30's couldn't show up somewhere thirty minutes before.
She sat in front of him, shrugging her shoulders, a lack of an excuse.
'That's who I've always been. You can't change who I've been my whole life.'
'There's a thing called maturing, not changing. Growing up maybe you should reevaluate how you manage your meetings, appointments and dates. You know the very special ones, like our first year anniversary.'
She reached for his hand, only for him to stand up and walk out of her apartment, leaving her alone with the echo of the door slamming.
She called her best friend then her mother. Cat was on her way when the door knock brought her out of her shell she had wrapped herself in.
"You better have had the good cheap shit I like from the liquor store off Hollywood Blvd." She hiccupped as she wiped at her face, opening her door she was met with his own tear stained face.
They made up, he accepted her flaws as she accepted him. She liked everything she loved about him and him, her. They had been in their happy bubble for seven years. Over the course of those seven years, they had created usual dates, usual times to meet, and usual weekends when the other would sleep over. They hardly fought, they were perfect for each other.
She smiled as she sat outside on one of the tables in the patio, she's never sat out here. The cold metal chair chilled her bones, she checked her phone before taking her phone out, startled at the time.
9:15- 'where are you? Been waiting at the café. Should i go ahead and order for you?'
9:35- 'Did you take a last minute client?'
She rang him the second it was fifteen till ten.
"The number you're trying to reach is not accepting calls right now. Leave a message at the beep."
She frowned at her phone before shoving it in her purse, and retracing her steps to the bus stop.
He.
He sat at the café, rubbing his eyes from the aftermath of last night's activities, his body ached, his head throbbed and he was sure he lost a life.
His buddy rang him, he silenced the call, ignoring his social life is probably what he needed to do. He needed a break.
He was answering messages from his manager, his own Wi-Fi was shit compared to the café across the street from his upstairs flat.
Living in downtown Los Angeles was never the plan, but rent was cheap for an aspiring actor. The landlords worked around their income, and his manager set him up with a good deal. The place was a walk-in closet, but he didn't live in it much. He was always chasing auditions, taking classes, working at a few dive bars to make ends meet.
He lived at a fast pace and never stopped going. He hardly knew what a day off was.
His phone rang, the unknown number opened a core memory.
Ignoring the call, he sat back on his chair, sighing with the stressed infused headache, worsening as time ticked on.
He reached into his pocket, taking out a cigarette, he never really enjoyed the taste, but cigars were a little classier for a café.
He looked around, looking to see if he wasn't going to offend anyone around him with the smell. It was not for everyone and he was not rude.
The patio was relatively empty for nine thirty in the morning, he noticed her a few tables away, glued to her phone. He didn't think she even noticed him because he didn't even notice when she had gotten there. That's when he noticed how gloomy the day had been. Los Angeles was known for their 'perfect' weather.
He decided it was probably best if he hadn't sparked it. He went back to his laptop in front of him, his eyes wondering ever so often her direction. Whatever had her attention she was fully committed.
He was in the middle of a lengthy email, when he heard her get up, phone glued to the side of her face as her rasped voice ignited some curiosity.
As fast as she got up, she was gone.
His eyes followed her, till she turned the corner, he shook his head and refocused on the news blog that was emailed to him.
He finished the lengthy email and fucked around the web for a few more minutes before ordering a coffee to go.
"Hey you, your usual?"
"One of these days I will need to try something different." His usual charming demeanor made the barista blush. Even though they had tossed around the sheets he could still fluster her.
She was fun, great even, but his bedside manners lacked common decency. He was a one time kind of guy and kept moving. But he also let them know what they were not going to get from him and they never said no to it. It made him feel less guilty.
He took his cup, tipped her five dollars and made his way across the street.
He sighed as he walked into his studio apartment. Shaking off his jacket and boots he went into the shower to rinse off.
She left his mind, but subconsciously she had made an impression to stick in the deeps of the back of his mind.