The Saga

 

He was there, again.

Following me everywhere I went. There was no one I could tell since they would not believe me. I could feel his shadows creep around me as I would sleep or wake up. He was messing with my head; I kept crying myself to sleep every night.

I thought of reporting him. But what was I supposed to say? I only THOUGHT that he was there, what if it were all but a coincidence?

Paranoia hit me like a storm.

I was wary and short of breath most of the times. I did not know what to do so I would act cold and distant.

Everyone around me was worried. They thought they could report him on my behalf, but I was going crazy. They had nothing to hold against him.

Finally one day, I found myself in the office being questioned.

‘So tell me, who do you think he is? Is there someone you think you may have a problem with?’ I heard a sweet female voice.

‘Yes’, I quivered, ‘It is terrifying, especially now, when I have so many things to do – he just won’t go away!’ I exclaimed.

‘Is he an ex-boyfriend, dear?’ The psychiatrist asked.

‘No’, I sighed. It was stress.

A Deal To Kill For

‘Third Floor. 5 o’clock. Cash Only’, the message read

‘P.S. I will be in gray’.

I stared at my phone nervously reading the message over and over again.

It was time.

With the cash stuffed clumsily in my bag, I put my phone into my pocket and darted outside, slamming the door behind me. I could feel the sweat coming on – Should I be doing this? I kept second questioning myself. I wasn’t ready.

It was 4:56 PM.

I did not know if I needed it, or whether it was worth it, yet, it had become a habit.

I glanced around at the bag full of cash and wondered what else could be of it. It was too late now; a deal is a deal. I had gotten myself into this mess.

I parked the car hastily and got out. Carrying the bag, I strutted into the building and made my way past the scent of leather soles and frying oils. I was determined.

I got into the elevator with a couple of other people behind me. I kept focusing on the floor to avoid any eye contact.

I was nervous. As I stepped out, I looked around, searching, and I saw her staring straight at me through a tall glass window. Sly, yet calm, a tall, dark figure, wearing what seemed to be a wig,  looked me dead in the eye as I stared back, choking.

There, animatedly, she stood wearing the low cut gray dress that I have wanted for weeks but had been way above my budget. I rushed into the store, past the mannequin, and with the accomplished feeling of finally owning the dress; I walked out with more than just one of what the store had to offer.

As I laid the seventeen bags in line in the back of my car, I glared at them with a sense of satisfaction. Taking a last look at the mall, I turned around and got into the car. What a deal it had been, indeed – until the next time. I smiled and drove off.

 

 

The First Night’s Brew

It started off innocent. I had no idea what I was getting into. It became all that I wanted all through the day and the night.

It began on the date of our first night together. I had never met something so taxing and tough before. I tried preparing myself by the educated methods of breathing, drinking water, and everything I could, but nothing seemed to calm my nerves.

‘What a night it would be’, I thought to myself as I scanned through as many as fifty different emotions in my head. I thought it might be the dress I was wearing – giving too much away for the first night, so I changed into something more comfortable, I went with stripes.

I felt a little nauseous at the thought of how it was going to go, I could have vomited but when is that ever a good sign? I plugged my phone into the speakers and put on some music. Serenading myself, I swayed across the room, trying to get into the vibe.

I shuffled through the bed sheets, and shuffled a pen between my fingers to satisfy my fidgety arousals. I even considered calling it off or delaying it claiming I was unwell or anything of the sort – that seemed like an easy way out. Instead, I ended up calling my friend. You know how they say misery loves company; I thought I would get some decent advice apart from the usual ‘stay calm, just be yourself, and everything will be alright’.

I heard attentively while she suggested ways to go around it. She gave me tips – it could be the lighting, maybe the music, or that I should add a little energy to the room and everything. I considered it too.

I sat down and stared into the light, I went online and looked for ways to prepare myself for the night – and I saw it! I decided to go for it. I walked out and looked for the most aesthetic cups. I laid out a box and the sugar jar. I blended everything as the site suggested, and there it was – a steamy, lip smacking cup of coffee.

It looked so inviting; I carried it over to my table and sat staring into the table light. There lay my books for the next day’s exam along with all of my friend’s advice. With my hair in a bun, and my most comfortable striped pyjamas on – I flipped through the pages of my tenth grade science textbook with a spirit I would say I never had before.

It was addictive, I relied on it time and again, and there was my life in front of my eyes – a lifelong partner in all times – happy, sad, bored, not bored, no reason at all! Just the kind of thrill and commitment I needed in my life – an obsession with hot cups of coffee, any time of the day.