wip update i guess
i dunno do people even post their like half-assed and not done works onto here? i dont even know whatever i will
I’d like to consider myself an expert on pancakes in my little town, but the truth of the matter is, there is only one diner worth eating at and that’s Sheena’s diner. Well, it’s not actually called Sheena’s diner, but she’s the only reason anyone even goes there. Anyone being me, the small, slight kid who’s already a junior in high school but looks like a twelve year old. Except for my face, that is. I don’t look like a boy anymore, thank whatever deity exists out there, but I certainly don’t look like a man either.
My jaw hardened a bit last summer, so my face isn’t a full moon anymore, which is good, but it kind of throws the rest of the more babyish parts of my face out of whack. I know that I am not good-looking, and no one will never drool over me or fantasize about me because I am unattractive in almost every sense of the word. I am not smart or funny or athletic and I have a rather unassuming presence. I am well aware of the fact that no one will ever harbor romantic feelings for me. I accept all of this, because some people in life are born with the things that I was not, which is okay, because it just means that who or whatever is in charge of this whole life thing decided that I would not need a romantic partner in my life. But there are times when I wish that I had been made to be loved, and then I remember who I am, and the lack of desirable qualities I have to offer the world.
“Hey, A. Want some more coffee?”
“Thanks, Sheena.”
“You’re welcome, doll.”
I put down my pen and crack my knuckles, neck, and back, all right after another. Sheena laughs amusedly, her good-natured smile reaching her bright green eyes and crinkling the corners. She sets down my mug, now filled to the brim with the addictive brown liquid. I reach for the tub filled with single-serving creamers and peel open three, pouring them all in at the same time. Sticking a spoon into the concoction, I give it few good stirs until the swirls of the pale creamer blends into the dark coffee to create an ugly beige color that a lot of people seem to like, but I heartily dislike. Taking a tentative sip, I hiss and curl my lip back. It’s still hot, which shouldn’t surprise me, but patience has never been something that was really mine to own and exercise regularly.
“So, did you make any progress in that book of yours, yet?”
Sheena leans over the counter, the ample cleavage pressing against her arms as she crosses them over her chest. It would be a flirtatious, provocative movement if it hadn’t been directed at me, the only patron at this ungodly hour.
“No, not yet. Although I did get to the part with you in it.”
I allow the mug to sit in my hands, warming my cold fingers so I’ll have something to do. Sheena’s nice and unbelievably gorgeous, but her coquettish behavior makes me incredibly uncomfortable, especially because I know she doesn’t mean any of it.
“Ooh, did you make me a famous movie starlet and a big fluffy eighties’ hairdo?”
She runs a hand through her black tresses teasingly, and I notice that she’s painted her nails again, which baffles me because she has a job that requires her to actually utilize her hands. I mean, personal preference, of course, but isn’t it a bit of a waste to have to constantly re-paint the damn things?
“You’re still just a waitress, Sheena. It’s not a piece of fiction, not really.”
Picking at the loose threads of my dark sleeves, I avoid looking at Sheena because I know she’ll have that disappointed expression on her face, as if she expected me to remember that she had asked me to make her a famous movie star in one of my stories when I’d mentioned that I was a budding writer.
“Then what’s it about? I thought you said that the main character was a superhero or something.”
The slightly irritated tone of voice doesn’t startle me, but the question does. I didn’t think that she’d say anything other than a flippant comment and leave me alone for the remainder of the night. Well, if she didn’t, I will.
“I never said that. You must have misheard me or something. Anyways, I’ll see you bright and early Wednesday morning, Sheena. Thanks for the coffee and company, as always.”
She smiles tiredly from behind the counter and waves goodbye to me as I shove my various belongings back into my messenger bag and pull my jacket on. It’s not that cold outside, but I don’t feel right unless I have it with me. I’ll wear the damn thing during the summer when it’s ninety degrees outside, for crying out loud. It’s this darkish green fabric, almost like camouflage, with a zipper for attaching a hoodie inside, and it’s just about the most comfortable thing in the world. It has all these bronze details and awesome pockets, which would make me feel like a badass punk if it wasn’t me wearing it.
