Angela carried herself out of the restaurant and inhaled heavily, letting
the fresh night air seep back into her lungs. She gritted her teeth and
closed her eyes trying to hold back the tears from forming on her face. The
lonesome women walked along the graveled sidewalk mesmerized by all the
events occurring around her. *Oh Shit!* Angela ran her petite fingers
through her unruly black hair. The heel of her favorite boots broke and her
melancholy mood went straight down the emotional line to miserable.
Nevertheless, not knowing what to do, she stumbled down the street. After a
couple of blocks the pain in her foot was killing her so she trudged to a
subway to get to her apartment. *Can't wait to call Jean, yet I don't want
to hurt my friends any more than I already have*.
As she sat down in the subway she remembered how thrilled she was to see Shawn when she surprised him a couple of days ago.
FLASHBACK
"Where to?" a low voice came from the drivers seat.
"Um, just a minute."
She pulled out a folded piece of ruled paper and read the address she had written on it.
"1604 Welsh St." she announced to the driver. "I'm meeting the love of my life there!" she added.
The driver looked at her and smiled. She smiled back.
"How long have you two been apart?"
"Oh, the longest year of my life!"
"You must miss him."
"Terribly!"
FLASHBACK OFF
*He is sooo not the love of my life!* she tried hard to deny it. *Jean is. I bet I was too sleepy from the long flight. Oh, oh Jet Lagged!* Angela found it difficult to cover up the words she said.
-
Shawn's hair flew in the breeze of the cool crisp air. His glance was dull and painful. It shifted back and forth through the the surroundings looking for a welcoming environment to stay at...it found none. *How could she leave me?* He could not deliberate the extreme situation he was in. His love was ruined and his heart was ripped out and stepped on. The young man hailed a cab and stared blankly out the side window as the driver sped on.
He entered his home. The one place that he could find comfort in. Everywhere else was too nerve racking and confusing. He looked upon his hand. The numbers, blurred yet legible, looked back at him and slowly they formed an outline of Amy Beveryn similar to the ones in the new Sharpie commercials. *Write out loud* he laughed to himself. Oh, how beautiful she was. Her blond locks, soft features, radiant personality. Amy was all a man could ask for, not Shawn, though. He knew, that even in the deepest corner of Angela's heart she still cherished and loved him. As the frame of Amy drifted back into the digits that were on Shawn's palm before, he picked up the receiver and in the midst of the night and called the girl up.
His heart pounded as he listened to the first ring.
"Hello," a feeble answer came from the other side.
"ummm, hey! Is this Amy Bereyn?"
"Yes, who are you and why do you call?" she questioned suspiciously.
"It's Shawn. We met at the park-" he was cut off.
"Of course! I know who you are!" Amy giggled franticly. She had it hard for the boy, even though she barely knew him.
"I was wondering..." The Hunter boy began. "You wanna get together, later...maybe?" he winced.
"Oh! Yes!" She was overcome with joy. "How 'bout tomorrow? Eight sound good?"
"Yeah, sure. 'course! Where can I pick you up?"
"I live in Brooklyn. On 4th street. House number 21. See ya then. I'm tired and needa get my beauty sleep. Nighty night, Shawn," the women hung up abruptly.
Shawn didn't get the chance to vocalize anything back. He shrugged and plopped back down on his pillow, staring at the ceiling and fell into an uneasy sleep tardily.
Beeeeeep!
Shawn's orbs practically popped out of their sockets at the surprise of the alarm clock. He was tiresome but dragged himself out of bed. It was 7:30 AM but, nevertheless, Shawn dragged himself into the cold shower.
"AHHHHHHH!" Shawn's holler echoed throughout the whole building. He was never one for cold. But this was just too much. The skin piercing low temperature of the water after sweating under a dove comforter the whole night wasn't what everybody desired for.
After Shawn's very eventful shower it was 7:45 so he attempted to cook breakfast. He rarely did this. On normal occasions he just grabbed a lemon tart and mocha at Starbucks before speeding off to work. *Oh damn!* he cussed more as he burned himself on the stove and his elbow sent the pan with uncooked eggs flying onto the opposite wall.
Without any attempt to clean the mess he got a waffle out of the freezer and popped it into the toaster. He hummed a song to himself but was interrupted by the sharp knock. Shawn learned that all his friends had their own ways of knocking. Previously he learned that Angela had a soft knock, followed by another about every 5-7 seconds. Cory hand an anxious, excited, quick five pounds. Topanga's was polite and elegant. Three soft taps. All very monotoned yet firm. This knocking was different. This was four soft, yet frantic taps. Probably done with knuckles which was quite odd. Sadly, as you might have guessed, Shawn has enough time on his hands to study knocks.
Confused he opened the door a crack peeking out to see who it was....
As she sat down in the subway she remembered how thrilled she was to see Shawn when she surprised him a couple of days ago.
FLASHBACK
"Where to?" a low voice came from the drivers seat.
"Um, just a minute."
She pulled out a folded piece of ruled paper and read the address she had written on it.
"1604 Welsh St." she announced to the driver. "I'm meeting the love of my life there!" she added.
The driver looked at her and smiled. She smiled back.
"How long have you two been apart?"
"Oh, the longest year of my life!"
"You must miss him."
"Terribly!"
FLASHBACK OFF
*He is sooo not the love of my life!* she tried hard to deny it. *Jean is. I bet I was too sleepy from the long flight. Oh, oh Jet Lagged!* Angela found it difficult to cover up the words she said.
-
Shawn's hair flew in the breeze of the cool crisp air. His glance was dull and painful. It shifted back and forth through the the surroundings looking for a welcoming environment to stay at...it found none. *How could she leave me?* He could not deliberate the extreme situation he was in. His love was ruined and his heart was ripped out and stepped on. The young man hailed a cab and stared blankly out the side window as the driver sped on.
He entered his home. The one place that he could find comfort in. Everywhere else was too nerve racking and confusing. He looked upon his hand. The numbers, blurred yet legible, looked back at him and slowly they formed an outline of Amy Beveryn similar to the ones in the new Sharpie commercials. *Write out loud* he laughed to himself. Oh, how beautiful she was. Her blond locks, soft features, radiant personality. Amy was all a man could ask for, not Shawn, though. He knew, that even in the deepest corner of Angela's heart she still cherished and loved him. As the frame of Amy drifted back into the digits that were on Shawn's palm before, he picked up the receiver and in the midst of the night and called the girl up.
His heart pounded as he listened to the first ring.
"Hello," a feeble answer came from the other side.
"ummm, hey! Is this Amy Bereyn?"
"Yes, who are you and why do you call?" she questioned suspiciously.
"It's Shawn. We met at the park-" he was cut off.
"Of course! I know who you are!" Amy giggled franticly. She had it hard for the boy, even though she barely knew him.
"I was wondering..." The Hunter boy began. "You wanna get together, later...maybe?" he winced.
"Oh! Yes!" She was overcome with joy. "How 'bout tomorrow? Eight sound good?"
"Yeah, sure. 'course! Where can I pick you up?"
"I live in Brooklyn. On 4th street. House number 21. See ya then. I'm tired and needa get my beauty sleep. Nighty night, Shawn," the women hung up abruptly.
Shawn didn't get the chance to vocalize anything back. He shrugged and plopped back down on his pillow, staring at the ceiling and fell into an uneasy sleep tardily.
Beeeeeep!
Shawn's orbs practically popped out of their sockets at the surprise of the alarm clock. He was tiresome but dragged himself out of bed. It was 7:30 AM but, nevertheless, Shawn dragged himself into the cold shower.
"AHHHHHHH!" Shawn's holler echoed throughout the whole building. He was never one for cold. But this was just too much. The skin piercing low temperature of the water after sweating under a dove comforter the whole night wasn't what everybody desired for.
After Shawn's very eventful shower it was 7:45 so he attempted to cook breakfast. He rarely did this. On normal occasions he just grabbed a lemon tart and mocha at Starbucks before speeding off to work. *Oh damn!* he cussed more as he burned himself on the stove and his elbow sent the pan with uncooked eggs flying onto the opposite wall.
Without any attempt to clean the mess he got a waffle out of the freezer and popped it into the toaster. He hummed a song to himself but was interrupted by the sharp knock. Shawn learned that all his friends had their own ways of knocking. Previously he learned that Angela had a soft knock, followed by another about every 5-7 seconds. Cory hand an anxious, excited, quick five pounds. Topanga's was polite and elegant. Three soft taps. All very monotoned yet firm. This knocking was different. This was four soft, yet frantic taps. Probably done with knuckles which was quite odd. Sadly, as you might have guessed, Shawn has enough time on his hands to study knocks.
Confused he opened the door a crack peeking out to see who it was....