The Beginning, Middle, but not the End

Day 6,045 (May 4th)

It's Callie's birthday, but we still haven't talked much. Only a few phrases have been said between us since the past week and a half. Has it really only been that long? It feels like it's been ages since I was last talking with my best friends. It's odd how much time can slow down when your life is going down a spiral.

After I get ready for school, I look at the stack of printer paper on my desk, next to a jar of colored pencils. Why should I give into her? But I guess it would be egotistical to not at least make her a card. I go to my desk and begin to put a simple birthday card together. By the time I'm finished with it, it's just a folded piece of paper with 'Happy Birthday!' written on the inside and outside. On the outside there is a bright and simple sunflower, and the inside has my signature. It's nothing special, in fact, it's far from it. Usually I try to make unique cards by hand, but this year I can't pull myself to it.

I grab my backpack before walking downstairs, and into the kitchen. I turn on the coffee maker, and brew a pot of dark roast. I'm not a big hot coffee drinker, I like to get frappes from the cafe, but Callie loves it. It's not that I want to be an awful sister and neglect her birthday, so suppose this will at least be sufficient enough. I'm too broke to go and buy her anything anyways. Soon enough, the whole first floor smells like dark, rich coffee. I set the card down next to it, and check the clock on the stove. She'll be down here in five minutes, just when the coffee is warm enough to serve and drink.

Before I exit the kitchen, I look for her favorite mug. It's the one I made her when I was 12 years old. The mug is white with pink daisies all over it, and has 'BEST SISTER' scrawled onto it. Mom had taken me to her pottery class and let me glaze and paint the mug for a gift. I find the mug sitting in the back of the cabinet. I set it next to the coffee pot and card. There, that should be good enough.

Within minutes, I'm walking my familiar route to the same coffee shop with the same Barista. There's a line this morning, but not too long. There's maybe three people waiting to order, but instead of the boy who usually takes my order at the cash register, it's a girl. I recognize her from the hallways at school. I stand in the line, behind those waiting before me. Someone calls out my name and shocks me. I look to the boy behind the display case next to the register. He's here, waving me over to him. I walk to the counter and smile. "Do you want your usual?" He smiles at me.

I smirk, "Don't I need to wait in line?"

"Not when you have a friend who works here and knows your order."

"What friend? I don't even know your name."

"Can't you read?" He points to his name tag, which reads 'Brendon'. I've never noticed it before. I'm a bit embarrassed, and by the way he looks at me, I know he can tell. My cheeks begin to burn slightly.

"It's okay, not everyone notices the name tags. Now you know my name, so we're friends. Do you want your usual order?" Brendon begins to make my coffee after I nod my approval. When he hands me the cold beverage, he hands me a bag of cookies as well. I give him the money I owe, and thank him. Once again, the cookies are on the house. I leave and make my way back to school. Back to the place where I have no friends. Back to the place that fills me with dread.