#flfiction20

[unlikelycupcakementality]

James looked through the window to the bleak winter day outside. It was a stark contrast to the warm break room where he was having his lunch. He started bringing a prepacked lunch instead of going to the cafeteria a month ago to save some money and continued doing so because of her. Lily.

She didn’t know. She didn’t know how he started timing his lunch breaks to go at the same time as her after accidentally sharing the table with her one Tuesday, even though they were from different departments. “Such a happy coincidence!”, she once said. She didn’t know how her bright laugh warmed him from the inside out. She didn’t know how he longed to hear her stories about the most mundane thing, because she always spoke with such an eagerness that a trip to the supermarket sounded like an adventure. She didn’t know how her green eyes sparkled when she spoke with passion about what she wanted to do with her future, or how cute she looked when she absently played with her long brown hair.

She particularly didn’t know how nervous he was right now.

“Lily”, he said while she ate a spoonful of soup.

She looked at him and cocked her head to the side, showing she was listening.

“I was thinking, hum…” This was harder than he thought. He took a small breath, trying to steady his voice and his trembling hands.

“You were thinking?”, she asked, trying hard not to curl her lips into a smile.

“Yeah, I was thinking.” The worst she could do is simply saying no. No big deal. He could go back to eating in the cafeteria. “Are you free this Saturday?”

She considered his question around another spoonful of soup. And then another. God, she was obviously trying to find a way of letting him down gently. She was so nice.

“I am not”, she finally said. “But I’m free Sunday. How do you feel about pancakes?”

He couldn’t contain his sudden smile.

“I love pancakes”, he said. I might love you, he thought.

[unlikelycupcakementality]

The beggining of a short story prompted by turning on the radio. She put her things in the back of her car, got on the driver’s seat, and turned the radio on, trying to muffle her thoughts. As she realized Price Tag, by Jessie J, was on, she immediately knew this had been a terrible idea. Hearing about “when the sale comes first and the truth comes second” and how we’d feel alright if we slowed down and enjoyed right now was not a great soundtrack to the week in which she had been broken up with and unjustly fired.

She could feel the tears well up in her eyes and her throat threatening to close, so she quickly turned on the engine and drove away before the tears could slip free. She would not cry in the parking lot of the job she just lost. She would not.

It hadn’t even been a good job, for crying out loud. If she’d had to fold another shirt or ask another customer who was doing absolutely fine on their own “how can I help you?” with the fakest of smiles, she would probably throw up. Not that the job wasn’t important. She had no problem with it per se. But she had only taken it to help pay for college. And now she was partnerless, jobless, and had to find a new way to pay for food. At least when she had a boyfriend, he would pay for some of her meals. Which, okay, should not be the part that troubled her the most after a break-up. But she didn’t have the time to unpack all the emotional baggage. She had to be practical. Maybe later that night she could call Mary and indulge in her misery, with a cheesy rom-com and ice cream. Right now, she had to go back to her classes.

With a startle, she realized she was already pulling up to her college’s parking lot. One day she would probably crash her car, driving everywhere on a mental autopilot like that. Not today, thankfully. Though that would have been right along the theme of this week.

She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. This would not do. Clearly, some of the disobedient tears had found their way out. She looked around her backpack, found her make-up wipes, cleared the smudged mascara beneath her eyes, and reapplied it. Next, she looked for her portable hairbrush and detangled her red hair, straightening it once more. This was better. She didn’t have anything with her that could help her with the bags under her eyes, but by this point, they were as much a part of her as the green of her irises. This would have to do.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down and prepare to face the world outside her car. Already feeling a little more like herself, she took two deep breaths and got out of the car.

[unlikelycupcakementality]

Tess

A character sketch about a girl in a train station.

Tess was sitting on a cold metal bench in the crowded train station. People walked fast past her, purposefully. She kept clutching her worn rucksack and then letting go as if deciding whether to pick it up or not. Would she really do this? She pulled her woolen beanie lower, hiding most of her cropped dark hair, and slowly got up. She was going to do this. Again.

She was short enough that she had to get on her tiptoes to look above everyone's heads for her platform. Platform 4. Finally, she picked up her rucksack, felt for the ticket in the pocket of her coat with her gloved hand, straightened her shoulders, and started walking. The cold was sipping through her open coat, so she pulled it close and turned the collar up. She tried to match the pace of the people around her, avoiding standing out.

One of the advantages of being short is that it's easier to avoid the glances of strangers you pass by on the street. Easier to go unnoticed. Tess always liked the sort of anonymity that came with being in a crowded place. Having average brown eyes helped, of course. No one thought twice of the short girl with brown eyes and short dark hair. Which was okay. It meant she could just leave.