Agony

1

We all enter the world in the same way: crying.

I just hope I don't leave it the same way.

Using the edge of my sleeve, I wiped away my tears.

The damned onions I was chopping for my pasta kept emitting fumes that stung my eyes and made me tear up.

It had been five months.

Five months since I'd last spoken to Ellie.

Five months since I'd moved from California to Texas.

Five months since I'd dropped out of med school.

Five months since that night on the rooftop.

"Stacy!" I yelled over the boiling pasta. "Get up! You're going to be late for your shift."

"I don't care, I need my beauty sleep." My roommate murmured from her room.

"C'mon, Jane is waiting for the opportunity to fire you. Don't give her the chance."

I heard Stacy grumbling as she dragged herself out of bed.

"Morning." She muttered, heading straight for the espresso machine.

"It's almost two in the afternoon."

"Morning." She hissed, waiting for her coffee and ignoring the truth.

I turned off the stove, grabbing a colander, and straining the pasta. That was when I realized I didn't have pasta sauce. And I was in no mood of making home-made sauce.

Nice going, Cher.

Sighing I decided I'd go and buy some. I hadn't done the groceries in a while anyway. "I'm heading to the store, do you need anything?" I asked Stacy whose eyes were still half-closed.

She nodded. "Some ice cream would be nice."

"Which kind?"

"Cookie dough."

My heart hitched at those two words. "Sure." I washed my hands getting ready to leave. "Please don't fall asleep and miss your shift, I need you to earn money so that you can pay your half and we can afford to live here."

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. I knew she'd end up getting to work eventually.

I grabbed my purse, slipping on some slides before snatching my keys from the hook by the door.

Opening the front door, I walked face-first into a wall Ugh.

"Good morning, Lottie. I was just about to knock."

Blake smiled, as I stepped out of my apartment and shut the door behind me.

I tried not to grimace at the nickname he'd gone for. I'd explained how much I despised it because back in grade school, all my classmates called me Pottie-Lottie.

The trauma.

"What do you want, Blake?" He and his roommate, Caleb, lived right across the hall and had the annoying habit of popping by our place on a daily basis to steal food and ask stupid questions. Even so, they were nice guys overall, so I tolerated the thievery.

Blake towered over me, his brown eyes surrounded by soft crinkles from his broad grin. "Got any eggs? Caleb and I are playing egg roulette."

"Money doesn't grow on trees." I objected.

He shrugged, "Neither do eggs, so please, give me like..." He paused, counting on his fingers. "A dozen."

My eyes bugged out. "You want twelve?"