Crystal Letters

Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

The girls were very fond of each other, as most sisters were. They painted each other’s

nails, did each other’s hair, and wore fancy dresses. At five the girls learned that they were two

souls of the same body. Ruthie had more brains and Lucy had less. Ruthie was taller and Lucy

stood on stepstools. To brush their teeth—their hair—the twins never bickered. They were never

alone because they had each other. Ruthie and Lucy were the children of the Mr. and Mrs. of

their household, where they held quiet tea parties when the Mr. and Mrs. were not home.

One evening, the twins had heard their parents arguing. They crept to the staircase closest

to their room and watched the commotion. Mrs. had pressed her hands against Mr.’s chest and

cried—

“You have two daughters!” she whaled.

“They aren’t what I expected, they hardly even speak,” the girls stared at each other with

“What of me? What am I supposed to do here? Take me with you!” their mother

screamed. “They don’t love me either.”

“You? Take you with me?” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t take you anywhere. These children

are your fault.”

“But please,” she begged him and thrust herself into his arms. He caught her and shoved

her away. A loud thump emerged from a corner the girls couldn’t see. Glasses erupted and

something heavy was being dragged across the floor.

The girls cried to themselves for weeks in their room. Not wanting to know what

happened they kept to themselves. They kept quiet and had each other. They became like mute

figurines and when their father couldn’t get a response from them he retired. Mr. had one day

gone away on a business trip which lasted for five years. He sent a letter home saying that he

would be away for an additional two years. It was a lie and he was never to be seen again. And

so the Mrs. stayed home and knitted by the fireplace and when the twins turned twelve she began

to leave them alone.

The twins had no friends; they were each other’s friends equally. They were fifteen. On a

lazy afternoon in the desert heat of August, the twins sat in their playroom. Ruthie sat on the

window seat with her nose in a book and Lucy quietly braided strands of her own brunette hair

repeatedly. There was a knock at the playroom door. The girls looked up from what they were

doing for a moment and returned to their personal activities. Yet again, there was a single loud

knock on the door. Lucy unknotted her hair and slanted her eyes at Ruthie from across the room.

Someone murmured beyond the door that they would like to come in. And Ruthie threw her

book gently aside and walked to open the door. Outside stood Mrs. and a young lady dressed in a

floral tea gown.

The girl had small golden locks, hazel eyes, and smelled of lavender and roses. She stood

quietly with her head bowed at the open door. Mrs. introduced Ruthie to the girl and walked

away on her own accord. They called her Jezebel. Jezebel was her father’s bastard child from his

third marriage. Mr. had sent a letter to Mrs. and requested to leave Jezebel with them for a short

time. He explained in his letter that his latest wife was ill and it was a necessity that he leave

home for a business trip.

The girls joined each other for afternoon tea and quietly chatted amongst each other. The

girls talked about the summer and asked Jezebel what it was like actually having their father

around. Jezebel scrunched her nose and told them about how affectionate he was towards her. To

the twins disdain, they had felt a prick of pain in their sides. They were baffled. Could their

father love another child but not his very first? Jezebel went on and on about the gifts he had

given her. She was naïve. And they looked at her.

“He has left for a business trip?” Ruthie asked her.

“He said he was coming home with medicine for my mother.” Jezebel grinned devilishly

at them.

“He isn’t coming back, you know that right?” Lucy looked at her sympathetically.

“Don’t say that about my father!” Jezebel reamed.

The twins stared at her for a long time and began to ignore her. They talked about other

things, flowers and teas and parties. With every interjection that Jezebel made, they looked at her

and returned to their personal conversations. She did not exist and nothing she could do would

tear the blood sisters apart.

Soon before long, Jezebel grew angry with the loud chatter from the girls as she sprung

from her seat.

“He left you both because you are despicable little demons!” she screamed.

The girls ignored her still.

“He said it himself!” she cried.

And they continued to talk to each other, excluding Jezebel indefinitely.

“Listen to me!”

Jumping upon the table she leapt forward and firmly gripped her hands around Lucy’s

little neck. Each finger neatly glued to her bear skin. With each violent thrust of Jezebel’s arms

Lucy let out a squeal for air:

“Hhhuhh.”

“Huuusss.”

“Hhhhhh.”

Lucy’s eyes grew red and her skin grew lighter the harder she was squeezed. Ruthie sat in

her chair paralyzed from the chest down. Unable to move, she watched as her sister was

effortlessly drained of life. After a few moments, Jezebel released poor Lucy from her grip and

returned to her chair. She silently took a sip from her tea cup, pleated her dress, and left the

room. Lucy sat slouched in her chair, her left arm dangling down by her ankle. Snot, saliva, and

tears combined at her chin.

The twins turned eighteen today and the Mrs. no longer visited them. Having now

outgrown her dresses, Ruthie sat in gowns she had fashioned on her own. Next to her sister who

reeked of decay, she sat having tea. Like a normal day, the sun shined in effortlessly.

The girls were very fond of each other, as most sisters were. They painted each other’s nails, did each other’s hair, and wore fancy dres... Read More

The note read, “Washington Square Park, third bench near the 8th street entrance.” My

roommate Rachel left Dan’s “address” on the kitchen table this morning before she left to work.

The night before she had told me that she ran into him again and thought it was a good idea that I

take him out for dinner.

“Trust me, it would be a change from all these corporate douchebags you’ve been giving

blowjobs to,” Rachel said. “E.G. Kevin, you knew he was never going to commit to you. He was

only ever interested in those supermodel bitches. And let’s not forget, Justin…”

Rachel is my best friend and my college roommate. She had seen me go through a

number of breakups from start to finish and stood by my side through all of it.

“I get it. But I don’t think…” I shoved the toothbrush back in my mouth before

continuing, “He was that into me,” I swished some water in my mouth and spat it into the sink.

“Are you kidding me?” she stared at me in disbelief. “FYI, did you see the way he was

looking at you? He was totally interested. I’m going to bed dude. I think you should sleep on it.

TTYL,” she said as she closed the door to her room.

We both met Dan a few weeks ago during one of our runs through the park. There was

something so tantalizing about him, his pungent cologne, his cheeky grin and the dirt smeared

underneath his right nostril. I had been sweating up a storm since this the first time I had worked

out since New Year’s Day. My hair was frayed and my makeup was bleeding, but he didn’t seem

to mind. He kind of looked past it as we paused for a water break.

He was sitting on his bench whittling a female figurine. It had long locks of hair that

rotated around her naked body, she seemed to be frozen in the midst of a dance. As I drank from

the fountain I watched him with each sip, the determination on his face was so intense it excited

me. He looked up from his work and stared at me for a moment and he smiled, a single tooth

missing from the top right corner of his mouth. I swooned. He stood from his seat and walked

over to Rachel and me, then he pressed the button on the fountain and rinsed off the figurine,

wood shavings meeting at the drain. I pushed a dangling strand of hair behind my ear, my

stomach-turning nervously. He didn’t say much at first. But once he did, I couldn’t get enough.

“How long have you lived in New York?” Dan asked.

“About seven years now, how about you? What is your profession?” I asked.

“I’ve been here for about fifteen years. The first ten, I was shacked up with my ex-fiancé.

I used to be a firefighter for the FDNY and then I got fired after having a mental breakdown.

Which was after she dumped me and moved to Egypt to pursue Archeology,” he paused. “I’ve

been living here on the corner of 8th street for some time now. I enjoy it, although my landlord is

a trip. He charges way too much than a panhandler can afford, but now, I do what I can. I often

whittle to pass the time and sell these figures when I’m finished,” he said while showing me the

figurine he was working on.

“Maybe we can all get together and go out sometime?” Rachel said as she poked her head

into our conversation.

“That would be nice. I’ll see you around,” Dan said and I nodded in agreement and left

with Rachel.

Not only was I charmed by him, but I was attracted to the fact that he had a steady job

and a decent place to stay. I could see myself with him, but I neglected to tell Rachel because of

how pushy she can be.

I was giddy while leaving my apartment; Rachel had suggested that I take him to a place

that better suited his appeal.

“You don’t want to scare him off. He seems fragile, especially after the whole thing he

said about his fiancé,” Rachel said as she packed the fridge full of groceries. “And BIBLE, with

you, we don’t need to have any more tears in your eyes. No more Kevin’s or Justin’s, let’s just

“I’m going to give him a try, Rach.”

“FYI Justin has been calling for you BTW, it would be wise to ignore that and see what

Dan has to offer. Maybe let him pick the dinner venue. And God, don’t be afraid to pay.”

“Yes, mother dear.”

“Oh, and please, don’t dress like a model or a law firm cunt,” She snarled. “Put on

something casual, something artsy.”

So, I showered and applied globs of suntan lotion to avoid turning into a lobster.

Especially since I would be out most of the day. I tossed my auburn curls under a black

headband before putting on a fine splotch of eyeliner. I found a pair of my holey-whitewashed

painting pants and threw them on along with a black graphic T-shirt. I put on my patent Doc

Martens, glossed my lips, and sprayed myself with a sweet perfume before I left the house.

“You got ‘dis!” Rachel said giving me a “thumbs up!”

I met Dan near the entrance of the park. He was holding a cup of change that he handed

to me when we met.

“I earned just about enough to pay for dinner,” He smiled as he kissed my cheek, leaving

behind the faint, yet intoxicating smell of booze.

“Thank you.”

“Wait for me, I just need a little more. Wait on my bench,” He said and wondered off

towards a gushing fountain.

He stopped to panhandle some more. And I thought it was charming.

“Do you have fifty cent or a dollar so I can get myself a sandwich and a soda?” He asked

about a dozen passersby.

By the time he came back, he had gotten about three dollars and sixty-five cents in

change. Altogether, Dan had made about thirty bucks for our date. “I made sure I got enough to

really go all out.”

“You really didn’t have to work so hard, Dan!”

“It was worth it,” He chimed.

We made our way to the New York City Fire Museum on Spring Street. He charged the

sixteen dollar fee for two adults on his signature panhandle cup. We spent an hour and a half

exploring the history of fire departments and fire fighting in New York City.

Hand in hand we walked to a deli that he seemed to know pretty well. He ordered a hot

pastrami sandwich and a coke and I got myself a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon. He paid for

it all. While we ate our sandwiches I had noticed that I was given a slice of tomato on my

“I hate tomatoes.”

“I’ll take it,” Dan said as he reached his beautifully filthy fingers in between the butt of

my bread to pull out the slice of tomato.

I beamed at the thought of sharing food with him. Afterwards we walked to an Italian

gelato place and enjoyed a sweet treat. I ended up dropping some on my chin which he wiped

away with his dirty finger. I was truly flattered at knowing (even though we had only been out

for a few hours) how passionate he could be.

“I like you a lot,” he said smiling at me, a piece of lettuce trapped in his teeth.

“I like you a lot too, Dan,” I said slurping up the remainder of my gelato.

We walked back to his bench and sat down for a while. We talked about his specialties in

garbage picking, whittling, and begging, which made him all the more charming.

“I’ve got it down to a keynote now, ‘Can I have fifty cents or dollar so I can get myself a

sandwich and a soda,’ the only difference is, I actually use it for what I say it’s for.”

“I noticed, I was just so surprised at how generous people can be. At the law firm I work

at, people can really be such assholes.”

“I know. Rich assholes, that throw out amazing things,” He said as he got up for a

moment. “You see this cooler?” He opened it and showed me all his finds. “I found an old

fashioned music box, a knock of Van Gogh painting… people just don’t care. Like with my

figurines, I got lucky, New Yorker’s like art.”

“You know? I’m glad Rachel suggested this date. I would’ve regretted it.”

“I’m glad we got to do this too.”

As he walked me to the 8th street exit of the park he held my hand and told me how much

he enjoyed himself. Handing me the figurine I had previously seen him working on as a gift. He

kissed me. I could taste the leftovers of his pastrami sandwich. I definitely could see myself

going out on another date with him. Rachel was right, it was time I gave the little guys a try, and

I’m glad I did.

The note read, “Washington Square Park, third bench near the 8th street entrance.” My roommate Rachel left Dan’s “address” on the kitchen... Read More

I tested the water, first with my big toe, then with my second toe, and then my entire left

foot. The water was chilled and swayed with a casual rhythm, like Jell-O left out to set. I picked

at a blood clot on my leg, first with my index finger, then with my middle finger, and finally with

my pinky. The scab covered a large hole in my leg that I got after falling, which led to being

impaled by a branch. I tore the scab off and shoved my finger in the wound, reveling in the pain

while the blood oozed out.

My foot rested in the water. As it swayed my body too swayed with it. Next to me sat a

boy. He pinched at the peachy fat underneath his left pectoral muscle, paying no attention to me.

He had honey blonde hair and a very small dimple to the right of his lip. He also fostered an

inverted nipple and smelled like freshly cleaned linen. His skin shimmered a bluish shade when

he was under just the right amount of sunlight. The color reminded me of fish scales, large blue

fish scales. I liked him a lot, especially since he was new to the neighborhood.

I watched him for a moment and he looked up, his cheeks turned a light pink as he got an

erection. We sat on the golden painted dock with our feet in the water. It smelled like fresh fish

and chopped collard greens.

“So that’s what gets you off?” I said.

With curious eyes he tilted his head at me.

“Come swim with me and I’ll be your girlfriend.” I said to him.

“I’m afraid to show you how I am in the water,” he shamefully looked away. “I wouldn’t

want to hurt you. I wouldn’t hurt your delicate and young flesh.”

“Just swim with me you, fag,”

I positioned my right foot on the edge of the dock and sprang into the water. When I got

far enough I untied my bikini laces and let them float to the surface and licked the fishy water off

of my lips. I floated with them and eventually sank back down. I found a musty smelling lily pad

and placed it upon my head. To hide under. I watched him from afar to see if I had caught his

interest. Waiting for him to follow me.

He stood up on the dock and untied his trunks, letting them fall to his ankles. His erection

stared at me from the dock. Mocking me. He jumped into the water head first. There was a huge

splash and water sprayed everywhere. I even felt a fish gentle caress my leg. I waited for him to

appear again, for five seconds and then ten. I began to panic after fifteen. I made the dumb boy

drown all because I wanted to play with…

Something strong pulled at my leg, it felt slimy and its grip tightened. I struggled to reach

the surface of the water as it pulled me under. I gasped for air each time, pulling at the grass, the

weeds, and the lily pads. I flailed until I was pulled to the bottom of the lake. I couldn’t see the

golden dock. I couldn’t see the clear blue sky. Everything had been clouded by dirt. And

something touched me with its squirmy tentacles and laced its fingers around my ass. Suddenly

the waters cleared and turned chlorine blue. I could see the boy again. His eyes brightened as he

placed his finger upon his lips to tell me to “be quiet.” Suddenly he smiled, exposing rows of

fangs that glistened under the clear blue waters. He laced his body around mine and stabbed

pieces of my flesh with his spiny scales. One breath at a time I began to sink. One breath at a

time he grew an enormous tailfin.

I tested the water, first with my big toe, then with my second toe, and then my entire left foot. The water was chilled and swayed with a... Read More

This is the only time he chose me, when we weren't together. On the bridge to Northern California, his hands brace around the wheel. As if he were thinking about running us off of it. We stopped at a motel somewhere along the road and stayed for a few nights. I woke up during the middle of one and he had gone. Left me. He left behind his money, his possessions, and a note.

The note said simply-- "I love you and I've tried."

So I cried my eyes out for what felt like a century. It was raining. Golf-sized hail fractured the windshield of the car which I sat in, too afraid to just drive away. Leaving myself with the inkling of hope that he would be back. That he couldn't last a minute in this weather.

Across the street was a highlight through the storm-- a small shack and a bench. A sign that read 'BUS' could be seen. He left to somewhere. Left the car. Left the keys. Left his wife and their child. I hadn't told him I was pregnant with his baby yet. We were driving to the place that we would settle down in, he was far from settling or so it seemed.

So I thought to myself--what a place to bring up a child in--no family for miles, no home, no friends, not even a pot to piss in. Stranded. In a motel, with a speck. A mole of a child. The tiniest, littlest, most beloved piece of him that I could have been left with. At least I had cash.

And so I waited. For a week. I used a portion of what he left me with a booked the room for an extended amount of time just in case he changed his mind. I ate sloppy continental breakfasts, and watched myself gain weight from the depression. Found myself in the bathroom, sinking in a tub full of water with my clothes still on. When I finally got up I went to bed and soaked the mattress that felt chock-full of strangers and ghosts.

Who could have done this? We had gone together for seven years. Broke the records of our family for love that wouldn't last between a harlot and a tramp. But, he wasn't happy and neither was I, yet we persisted.

At the end of my stay, I had finally realized that he wasn't coming back. I wouldn't see him again and he wouldn't see his child. I felt a pang in the back of my head and cringed, my nose bled for a while. He had gone. He had gone to somewhere far away and not taken me with him. I contemplated purging the baby, but opted against it because of how warm it made me feel. But what could a mother do? With no home, stranded, and with $300 of gambled cash. Not quiet enough to get back home to New York. Not enough to live on, not for two people at least, I don't even know where I was. On some back road, in a rundown motel with a car who's gas tank was half full. I wouldn't hitchhike if I didn't need to. It wasn't worth being run over, or raped, and martyred by a serial killer in mask made from human skin or an acupuncturist who ate toes and livers.

I had convinced myself for the longest time, that I, it was me who made him a stronger person. A better person. Just strong enough for him to let me be aware of his strengths and weaknesses. Only for a moment he found a place he could call home. But it was him--never settling for the responsibilities of reality.

I left a note at the front desk for the motel manager who had been "Out to LUNCH" too many times a day and told her that if she saw my husband to give him the lighter I had bound to it. A small one that I had engraved on the day we eloped in Atlantic City. I wrote for him the next place he could find me and a brief strategy of how I would make it through without him. I informed him of the fetus and left it at that.

The Fetus and I made our way to San Francisco. I drove.

This is the only time he chose me, when we weren't together. On the bridge to Northern California, his hands brace around the wheel. As... Read More

Entry 3—

Waiter

For all I know, half of the time we spent together could’ve been a real sham.

“Poor little Eva, always so eager to please!”

And what did I get out of it? A pile of shit left by the first girl. The seasons changed, fast, I was always uncertain about him, I never saw the sideshows that he played but I had always assumed his mind was somewhere else. He could never stay still, and he always counted our time together. Why couldn't it just feel timeless? Just the way it felt for me? Time would always feel as if it never shifted… but with Gus, it was always about the hour, it was always about the minute, the second. I was never on time.

I met a waiter today, cute looking guy with the smirk of a devil. I took him home after he got off of work, rather, we ran into each other when I was on the way back from the grocery store. It was like some cliché movie clip where the guy in a rush bumps into the bag lady. He knocked my shit everywhere, tumbling tomatoes and a rolling can of peas, at first I was angry until I had realized who he was. I asked him up and made us both grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It was cold today, it had reminded me of the winter we sat in Gus’s car, and we were on the way home and had just finished getting high. I was disoriented so I gave us the wrong directions and we spent an extra twenty minutes to get home, he was angry at me, I was angry at him.

The waiter was sweet; he said that he hadn't “Had a meal like that since he was kid.” It was snowing outside and eventually I sent him home, and shared the bed with my cat. Turning to my side I ran my hand over the space where Gus would have been, silent and restless. I could never sleep when we were together because I was always afraid he would leave me.

Entry 3— Waiter For all I know, half of the time we spent together could’ve been a real sham. “Poor little Eva, always... Read More

"Have I kissed her in any way that I have not kissed you in?!" he takes her by the shoulders and shakes her.

She spits in his face. "You're swine." she growls.

He throws her hard against the wall. "Regret this! Regret it now! You will suffer if you don't!" he points at her.

"Blow me." she smiles

"That’s it! I can't work with her!" he throws his hands up.

"CUT! CUT! CUT! What's your problem Richard?" the Director howls.

"I can't work with her period. I mean how else can I say it? This is supposed to be what a Victorian film and all her responses are short answers and sarcastic slurs are you serious?" he removes his jacket. "That’s it, I'm sorry Elv. I just can't work with her, find someone--"

"Coward," she lights up.

"What did you just call me?" he turns to her.

"Cow-ard, C. O. W. A. R. D." she exhales a large puff of gray air.

"Bitch."

She walks up to him and grabs him by the collar.

"Get off of me!!" he demands.

"I am many things, but that is one thing that I am not."

"Ivory! Let go of him!" the Director yells.

She takes her cigarette from her mouth and blows the smoke in his face.

"Cut!" the actual Director cries joyously. "That was fucking spectacular!"

"Sorry about the spit, Lenard." the girl laughs apologetically.

"It's okay, if we got Chuck to say that then it's quite alright." he smiled back humorously.

The Director puts his hands on both of their shoulders, "Gean! Len! You guys were terrific, I mean, I've directed many movies, with many movie stars but wow, this just being practice for class, that was honestly amazing. You've left me speechless!" he smiles and massages their shoulders.

Geaneve uncomfortably removes herself from the Director's hold. "You're still talking though." she stares at him unconvinced.

Lenard approaches Geaneve and puts his arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry Chuck, what she meant to say was 'thank you for the compliment, are there any open roles for us in your upcoming movies?" he looks at her as if to signal 'relief.'

"No, no, it’s quite alright, I like her tone, she's really something. I'm actually surprised that she is still studying to be an actor, she has all the requirements most directors or companies would ask for." the Director closes in on Geaneve again.

Len moves between Geaneve and the director. "I must give you our apologies Chuck, but we really have to get going."

Lenard pulls Geaneve by the hand and they disappear into the crowd of the film crew.

"Jealous?" Gean questions monotonously.

He pulls her roughly through the people. "ME? Jealous? What are you talking about?"

"Then why are you holding my hand?"

He lets go. "Well obviously, I'm trying to get us out of here."

"Why? And in the middle of a talk with Chuck, seriously?" she stops in her tracks and stares at Len.

The crowd dissipates and it’s just the two of them. Len turns to her from a distance. "Your acting is too good."

"Again, jealous?"

"No." he pauses. "I want you." he stares into her.

"Stellar," she smiles "But why? I hate you."

"And that’s exactly why." he grins.

They fade.

[Story Exit]

I stared desperately at the computer screen and read what I just wrote, AGAIN for the fifth time.

I just don't get it. All I seem to write are silly love stories with sarcasm. It's annoying me! I thought to myself, but most seemingly it didn't matter what I thought to myself if a good story couldn't come from my chrome dome. I felt like a starving beggar that begged too much, and again I sighed and agitatedly dropped my forehead onto my keyboard.

"Rachel, how’s the book coming?" sung a familiar voice.

"See my head? See where it is? Are there any unwanted letters on the screen? Because if there are just erase them with the backspace button that my head is hiding, because I don't care. I'm serious, I don't care." it was Jessie who I responded to while my head still lay flat on the keyboard.

"Jeez, is it that bad? I mean your writer's block, not the book." she saves herself.

"Nice save, but no, you were right the first time. The book is terrible. I hate it. I hate every last bit of it. I want to sit in a corner and cry, that’s how aggravated I am, you really have no idea." ranting I felt the keys digging into my forehead.

"Come on, don't be like that." Jessie pulls me by the shoulders and lifts me up.

"Blah!" pulling from her angrily I manage to hit my head on the LCD screen in front of me. I began to laugh when the thought arose in my mind that I could travel to another dimension just through the computer screen. But then eventually I came to my senses and stood up. "I've got it!"

"What?" startled.

"I'm hungry." I stare at Jessie as I felt my stomach growl and my eyes become inset.

She sighs as we walk out of my apartment. "The shapes of the keys are on your forehead."

"Dope, it's a new trend, you should try it." I was being honestly sarcastic. But on a side note, I was just trying to avoid the fact that my story was trash.

It was outside where I stood, in front of the five-story building where I lived. In front of that same building where I stood on the steps and dropped my glass mug of coffee when I saw my boyfriend (ex) kissing a fucking ginger across the street. It was the same building that I stood on the side of the stoop puking my guts up after I returned from a party to reboot myself from what I saw the same day at four in the morning. The same building that I moved into when I started college and was fresh out of high school and from the state over-- New Jersey. My humble abode could be found on any map, on any site, specifically Google that stated it was in Soho, New York City. This building was on 6th and Watts street; calm in the mornings, noisy in the afternoons, and sleepy during the evenings.

By now me and Jessie were halfway to Mooncake Foods, a cheap and cute little restaurant that served 'plates and salads for lunch as well as Wonton soup on cold days." and believe me, I had many cold days. We or rather I was a usual customer to this place, so the waiters knew me by name and face so unless I had a guest with me, like today, would be the only reason that they would ever have to approach me with their little notepads to find out what I would be ordering.

So Jessie ordered a plate of Octopus and Spinach Noodles (Yuck! Octopus...) and I got my usual, a Fruit Salad, it's a tasty and nutritious meal. Finally once the waiter left Jessie looked at me, I knew the look, it was the "what's gotten into you look." Great, confrontation.

"What's gotten into you?" Her eyes darted around the room and then focused in on me.

Of course you'd ask that, maybe if you'd keep out of my business for a week or two you wouldn't have to ask. I could've said that, but I didn't so I kept it in my head, so instead I just looked at her and stayed silent.

"Rach, you've been like this for five months, wake up and smell the roses or coffee or whatever the hell makes your nose perky. It’s a new day, forget that damn guy--"

"It's not even him anymore!" I interrupt and get loud. Other customers look at me, I ignore them. "I don't know what it is anymore okay! I'm sick of you asking, or assuming that it's about Craig, that cock sucker can go and well suck his own cock! I'm just--"

"Rachel, here is your Fruit Salad and for your friend, her Octopus and Spinach Noodles." says a waiter who seems to know me all too well, it was Peter; his soft smile makes me at ease.

"Thanks Pete." I regain my cool and smile at him.

"Breathe, heartbreaker, breathe." he grins and starts to walk away. "Call me if you need anything." he disappears into the portal behind the doors labeled "Employees Only"

"Pete? Well, well, well, and who is that charmer." she curves her lips into a grin and raises an eyebrow.

"He's no one." I laugh and shake my head as I begin to dig into my Fruit Salad.

Actually Peter is someone. He is a significant someone, who I had just recently... well not recently, over the course of the five months that Jessie had assumed that I had been mourning my ex-boyfriend, that I had been seeing on the down low. It was the first warm night that I had found in August that wasn't too hot or too chilly; I was on the roof of my building, leaning over the edge smoking a cigarette. My face had been stained with black lines from my mascara and of course, I had been crying about Craig. I had been startled when I turned around to see someone's silhouette holding a blunt object in the light of the open door that read 'ROOF' in huge white caps. I almost attempted to run until I froze.

"I'm a neighbor! Please don't be scared!" he panicked.

I was silent, because I thought I was supposed to be panicking. Since I could only see his silhouette I stared hard.

He approached me with his hand raised towards me. "I'm Peter, sorry for scaring... Are you okay?" his eyebrows wrinkled. He saw my face.

"I'm Rachel and don't worry about it." I shook his hand and proceeded to wipe the lines from my face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your thinking session as it seems but I came up here to water the garden." he said to me as he left my side.

I could see it now, the 'blunt object' he was holding was actually a watering can; I was surprised because I didn't think people still used those anymore. I watched him, his face was softly lit from the light of the moon, and since I was staring at him so enchantingly it would've seemed as though we were in a movie but no, I was just curious as to the fact that someone like him existed.

"So, you're a neighbor huh?" I finally said.

"Yes, as are you." he laughed and smiled.

I laughed too, I liked his smile.

"I've seen you many times before," he looked at me and then looked away again. "But, I've always been too nervous to say something." Crouched he continued to water the plants.

"I think I've seen you but I guess I've really never paid much attention..." Wow, that just made me sound like a bitch; I bit my lip and started to talk. "I'm--"

"Oh, I see..." He sighed.

"I'm sorry," I started again. "I didn't mean for it to come out that way, I've just been... well you saw the lines on my face so I would assume you'd understand." I pointed to my cheeks.

"I do! I do!" he smiled. "Well, I hope you feel a little better, I mean I do. I actually feel relieved that I finally have the chance to speak with you."

"Crush?" I grinned and moved my lip ring from side to side.

"More than that," he stands facing his back towards me, silhouette again.

"Honesty? Amazing," I stared almost aroused by his confidence. "Stalker type?"

"Never, just a bit timid," he walked around the 4x9 garden and found a new spot of plants to water. "Besides, you're gorgeous."

I stared at him, almost flattered. "Thank you Peter, but looks don't mean anything. I mean for all you know I could be a serial killer." I gave him a toothy grin.

"I doubt it, from the way you speak and under those lines of pain, you seem like a girl who understands life. You seem experienced." he stared into my eyes but I looked away and turned around to finish my cigarette.

"I'm very experienced, in a 'fuck-me' sort of way." I took a pull on my cigarette and then exhaled. "But experienced with life... Even I don't know about that." I looked into the sky. "Stars... aren't they amazing...?"

"You are." he said to me, his voice extremely close. He was on my left side.

"You've just met me." I turned my head towards him.

"As you have me, have you ever heard of 'Love at first sight,'?" He stared at me intently.

"Yeah, but I've also heard of 'One night stands.'" I reassured him.

That night, could not be explained. And if the walls in his apartment could talk I could only imagine what they'd tell you.

"Rach?" Jessie sings my name as she waves her hand in front of my face.

"Huh?" I shake my head and shut my eyes.

"I thought I lost you! Jesus, don't scare me like that, anyways." She continues; I daze out again.

I hear her, but I don't hear her. No, I'm not listening, I'm thinking. It’s about Peter. His skin, the way his shoulder blades feel under my hands. His kiss, his touch, the way he moves, the heat. The intense heat that even Craig couldn't produce, the intimacy that he induces upon me.

"Rach!" Jessie wakes me up again. "Seriously? Twice in a row Rach, come on now. What are you thinking about?" She says to me with an upset look on her face.

"I'm sorry Jessie, it's nothing." I lied.

"Have I kissed her in any way that I have not kissed you in?!" he takes her by the shoulders and shakes her. S... Read More

Crystal Davis Full Time Writer/ All Day Dreamer

Crystal Davis is a multidisciplinary and mixed media performance artist, poet, painter, freelance writer, and social media marketer. She was born and raised in Jersey City, NJ and is the author and creator at Crystal Letters (CL), and Co-Founder and Co-Producer of OpenRoad Poetry (ORP), a partnership between CL and RescuePoetix TM. CL and ORP, have collaborated with arts non-profit organizations and artists nationally, and internationally.

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