Dear Delilah,
I read, loving that he takes time out to write to me.
What’s it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but girl tonight you look so pretty. Cheesy, yeah I know, but I can actually say how beautiful you look because I saw your video from the library thing. I looked them up on Youtube and I know I made the proper choice by shoving you out there.
He writes and my heart squeezes at the thought of him watching me read those poems. So many are about him, but I guess he’ll never know that. After seeing how amazing I felt with all the attention to my new makeup, I made the artist show me how to do it and have been doing it pretty regularly like that. There’s no going back now.
Oh and by the way, love the tattoo’s. Never thought you’d actually get any, but I was pleasantly surprised. Welcome to the club.
Once he mentions club I remember that I'm late. I shove the letter in my pocket without reading the rest and rush out of my apartment. I take the stairs two at a time, hoping I wouldn’t be penalized for my late arrival. In my haste, I rush into someone whom I hadn’t noticed and knock everything they were holding to the floor.
“Oh hell, I'm sorry.” I say as crouch down and begin to pick up their things. Their ‘things’ are just a bunch of library books and from what I am able to catch from the titles and authors, they’re books full of poetry. The renter of these books leans down and begins to help pick them up. Looking up, I lock eyes with Josh.
“Hey.” I say, smiling a little as we both stand.
“Hey.” He says simply as I hand him back the books.
“So, reading up on poetry? Frost? I thought you told me you didn’t like poetry?” I ask, motioning towards the books.
“Yeah, uh, I really enjoyed your poetry so I thought I might look into more of it.” He says nervously.
“Oh, thank you?” I ask, laughing a little bit in the awkwardness of the situation.
“Yeah, I tried reading some of it there at the library but I couldn’t really get into it. I was thinking I’d stop by and ask you to read it, or ya know, explain it to me?” He asks, awkward thick in his voice. And then I remember why I ran into him in the first place.
“Oh shit I'm late.” I say, thinking out loud.
“If you don’t want to, it’s cool. No big d-“
“No seriously, I'm late for a meeting that why I was rushing, shit I totally just remembered. Rain check?" I ask, stepping around him and making my way down more stairs.
“Rain check.” He says with a smile. With that, I rush down the stairs and out of my building. I hail a taxi as quickly as possible and give them the address of the tattoo parlor. Thankfully, traffic is light and I'm there within five minutes. Throwing a good amount at the driver, I rush into the parlor. As I enter, I barely see the last of Odette’s blue hair duck into a back room, and I follow. I enter the back room and there aren’t many people here. There’s Odette, Seymour the tattoo parlor guy, and a couple other sketchy people who look like they could be art students.
“Oh thank God you’re here. I was waiting for you outside but damn girl, you’re fucking late.” Odette tells me as she comes over and links arms with me.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Delilah
Fiksi PenggemarThere was once a writer named Delilah who stage managed for the lovely ginger, Ed Sheeran. The rest,isn't known to much of the general public. Let's just say her story has been unwritten, until now.
