Old Windows

5 p.m.?

About a week later, Claire found herself in the New London market shopping for a few things. Vigilant of where exactly she went, she always brought along some mace- incase of those suspecting murderers Elise advised her about.

She picked up a pack of L&M cigarettes. Exhaling all the breath she had in her lungs, she read the warning labels. 'I really need to quit', she thought to herself. Instead of listening to those warnings, she clung on to them and headed for the counter.

In the span of waiting in line, anxious to pop a cigarette in, she felt someone's presence creeping up behind her. She messed with the mace in her pocket, ready to strike if needed.

"Hey," a soft voice spoke behind her.

She flinched and spun around to find the man from yesterday. Nearing relief, she loosened her grip of the mace and forced a pleased smile.

"Hey Mort," she hesitantly laughed.

"Are those L&-" before he was able to finish his sentence, she abruptly interrupted his thought.

"I don't smoke," she snapped.

"Oh, I saw the pack- I'm sorry, I just thought," he stumbled over his words, trying to tip toe around the agitated woman.

"It's okay. They're for a friend," Claire knew they were for herself, but admitting that she smoked was always a sore subject.

"I don't smoke either," he spoke up, hiding the pack behind his back.

Claire had looked down at his items prior and noticed the pack anyways. She peered at him over her shoulder and smirked, "You sure about that?"

He choked on a nervous laugh and said no more. The lady checking out in front of Claire gave Mort just enough time to formulate an excuse to mingle later on. He tapped his foot anxiously on the ground, "I can show you around later today if you'd like," he waited with anticipation for her answer.

Claire clenched her eyes closed in thought. Something about Mr.Rainey was enticing but she wasn't exactly in the mood to associate with anyone. All she wanted was to go home and inhale a few cigarettes and pass out on the couch. She let out a sigh, "Sure," offering an uninterested facial gesture over her shoulder.

He subconsciously congratulated himself on the approval.

"I can pick you up later on? Say...5:00? Maybe get some dinner," his tone converted into flirting and Claire was just praying the lady in front of her would hurry the hell up.

Finally, the lady left and Claire was next. Mort slumped his shoulders in dissatisfaction. Claire paid no attention to Mort while checking out, hoping he would give up and leave her alone but he wouldn't relent until he got his answer.

"Does 5 sound good?" he repeated, his patience growing thin.

"Yep, 5 is good," she huffed.

"I'll pick you up," he suggested once more with a wide smile.

"Okay," she replied shortly, "Do you need me to write down my address?" she asked while digging through her purse for a spare scrap of paper.

"That won't be necessary, I remember where you live," he insisted.

Slowly, Claire lifted her eyes and gave Mr.Rainey a paralyzed stare, "You do?"

"Yeah, uh," he chuckled and shook his head, "It's the route I take to the store so I pass it. I've been passing that house for a while now."

She deliberately nodded her head and conjured up a false smile in return, "Right," she chuckled through her discomfort and gathered her bags, ready to storm out.

She approached the door, one arm full. Mort noticed and rushed over to open the door for her. In the process, he almost ran her over trying to get to the door first but he proceeded with his intended good deed for her.

"Thanks," she sighed, rolling her eyes once he was out of sight.

"5:00 tonight?" he kept the door open, calling out to her in the parking lot once again to confirm the night's plans.

She threw a thumbs up, not turning around once. Mort smiled to himself and returned to the clerk who was asking him to come back to his unattended groceries.

-

Once Claire returned home, she dumped her bags on the counter and let out a scream of frustration. Rubbing her temples, realizing she had picked up a new box of L&M stress relievers, she rushed over the bag and clawed for the small box.

She retrieved the box and ripped open her kitchen drawers to scavenge for matches. Shoving the cigarette in her mouth and urgently lighting it, she rested her elbows on the counter and finally allowed her body relax. Inhaling the deepest puff possible and meditating on the sensation of the smoke pillowing in her lungs. The relief had simmered and she realized what she was doing. Claire shamefully blew out the smoke and hung her head down, but the guilt had vanished and she inhaled repeatedly.

Claire checked the time on her stove, 3:21 it read. An exhale of relief unconsciously left her lips and she walked over the couch to lie her head back, savoring the last few puffs she had left. Stretching to her right to reach the ash tray on the coffee table, she put the cigarette out.

What seemed like 5 minutes later, she felt a warm hand gently caress her face. She couldn't keep her eyes open even if she needed to, they flickered in between awake and asleep. She figured it was an overly vivid dream from the cigarettes and fluttered back into sleep. She was abruptly startled by aggressive knocking on her front door. Barely being able to see anything or gain consciousness, she wobbled to the front door, trying to grab a hold of the knob. In front of her was a blurry, yet familiar figure standing on her front porch.

"Hello?" she muttered.

"It's 5," he laughed.

"Huh?" her eyes became fixated and she recognized who it was, "Oh," she rubbed her eyes and yawned, "Hey Mort. Sorry I was just laying down, I didn't know it was 5. Let me go get changed. You can uh...make yourself at home," she stepped out of the way and held her arm out for him to come inside.

She trudged upstairs as Mr.Rainey took a comfortable seat on her still warm couch. While Claire was changing she continued to take quick glances over she shoulder in case Mort decided to intrude his way in her room, but to her surprise and assurance he did not.

Claire made her way downstairs and Mort threw the used cigarette butt from her table out of his hand and sprung up from the couch, "I'm ready to go," she spoke.

"You look, beautiful," he marveled.

Claire laughed to herself and looked down at her clothes. Taken back by his compliment, considering she was only wearing a top and some pants, "Thanks Mort, that's sweet of you," she smiled.

Reaching for an itch on his left cheek, she was recalling the odd event of her nap, "Weird question," she began, "did you...happen to touch my face or something while I was asleep," she laughed at how bizarre her question was, hoping he would find it strange as well.

"What?" he laughed.

"You know, did you touch my face or something? I know it sounds weird, but I could've sworn I felt someone touch me."

"I think it's just the cigarettes getting to you," he smirked and pointed down at her cluttered coffee table.

Ashamed, she forced an embarrassed smirk and grabbed her purse. She waited for a small window of opportunity to throw in her mace as well.

"Ready?" he asked, just as she packed her mace.

"Yep," she smiled, and they started for his car.