The coffee pot wailed, breaking the silence that filled the loft. Mark quickly got up from the couch and ran to the stove. It was only seven in the morning, and if it woke Roger this early, he'd have to deal with his moodiness all day. He took the pot off the burner and turned it off, then placed the pot back down.
He loved mornings like these – being the only one awake, sunlight filling his peaceful home. As he walked over to the cabinet, he looked out the window. Sunshine was all around. People were out and about, walking to their destinations. It was a beautiful day ahead. Mark smiled and inhaled deep as he opened the cabinet and pulled a mug out for his tea.
As soon as he shut the cabinet, there was a loud knocking at the door of the loft. Mark craned his head over to the door; brow furrowed, he froze for a second.
'Who the hell is here?' he thought when there was more knocking. 'And why so early?' he placed his empty mug down on the big steel table and quietly walked over to the door, knowing that if he stalled any longer, Roger would be threatening to kill the person at the door with a steak knife.
When he opened the door, he found a mess of brilliant red curls atop a woman who looked like she hadn't slept in days. Mark recognized her at once: it was the woman he had had a one night stand with almost one year prior. He couldn't remember a thing about that night, but he remembered that crazy hair.
His heart started to race. He hadn't spoken to her since that awkward morning. He put a hand behind his head and scratched his neck. 'This is going to be awkward...' he thought.
"Hi...how are y – " he began to say, but he was quickly cut off by her, flinging a huge pastel blue bag onto his shoulder, and shoving a thick folder into his hands. Caught off guard, Mark almost lost his balance and dropped the folder, papers flying all over the floor. Mark quickly bent down to pick them up.
"I can't handle it anymore!" she exclaimed in a panicked tone, shoving a large baby carrier over. Mark froze, crouched down, looking at it. His eyes widened and he froze what he was doing. His stomach flipped inside him.
"What – ?" he said at last, keeping his eye on the sleeping baby.
"I can't do it! I just..." she said, crying. "I just can't. I can't handle it!" she sobbed and turned on her heel to go, covering her tear-streaked face with her hands.
All of a sudden, Mark realized what was happening. His heart started to pound. 'There is no fucking way she's leaving me with a baby.' He looked up to see her running down the stairs. But he couldn't move – he was in complete shock. 'Oh my god...' he thought, and looked at the baby.
"HEY!" he yelled, but she kept running. "No!" he said, and forced himself up. He ran down the hall towards the stairs, leaving the door wide open and the baby sleeping.
He ran down as he could, trying to catch up to her. When he reached the door, he whipped it open and jumped down the stairs and looked around. She was nowhere to be seen.
"HEY!" he yelled again, as if that would make her come back. All it resulted in were strange looks from walking passerby. Trying to catch his breath, he looked around again, trying to find her. She was gone.
Mark gave up and started back up to the loft. When he reached his floor, he stopped, five feet in front of the baby carrier, staring at it.
He tore his eyes away from it and turned to the wall.
"FUCK!" he yelled, punching the wall. He quickly regretted doing so, and pulled his now pained hand to his chest, cradling it. Turning his back to the wall, he brought his hands to his face, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest.
'God I really fucked up this time...' he thought, face buried in his knees.
