Smoke And Mirrors

•Twelve•

It's the beginning of December
He didn't call
He didn't text
He didn't stop by

Nothing.

But that was okay, because I didn't either and I wouldn't have expected him to even if I wanted it badly.

I sit on my bed, the white sheets crumpled around my knees as I sit cross legged. My hair up in a messy bun, and my matching pajamas hanging loosely from my body.
The sun beamed through my big windows that were framed in steel against the brick wall they were placed in. The rest of the walls in my room white—pictures I took framed in dark colors on my walls. My hamper filled with dirty clothes that I had yet to wash.

I get up, leaving my phone to charge on my night stand. I walk out into the rest of my house, the old hardwood floor stretching out into every room. I make my way down stairs to my kitchen. I poured coffee grounds into my expression machine that I was lucky to get from Tasha as a welcoming home present around three months ago—I've been getting good use out of it.
My living room had a cream couch pushed against the wall that faced the TV. A glass coffee table with a decor tray with books on photography, and a statue in the silhouette of a woman's torso angled perfectly.
A plant in the corner next to my book shelf. And a rug that was in the center to make it warmer.
A yellow lighting lamp in the corner across from the plant that I had left on in the night.
I lit the candles that were placed around my apartment and check my email on my laptop that was charging on the kitchen island.
I had created a website for my photography and people could book shoots of whatever they wanted. I've had families, yearbook photo's, dogs, children, engagement, weddings, couples everything. I was doing pretty well on my own.
I hadn't talked to my parents in a long time, well—they don't even know I broke up with Jake, the last time we talked was when we stormed out.

I had gotten a photo shoot request for a retirement party at a cafe.

Odd request. Alright.

I respond to it, sending her the email I would for anyone. I leave my laptop open and make a latte with expresso I made.

The apartment door opens with a knock, "Knock, knock," Tasha sings.

I smile, "Good morning Tasha." I stir my latte and turn to her, "How are you?"

"Good," she shuts the door, "Ugh—it smells good in here. As always." She smiles and locks it, "How are you?"

"Good, I have a photo shoot sometime soon at a cafe for a retirement party." I sip it, letting the hot steam touch my cheeks.

"Huh...you haven't had a photo shoot for a retirement party before, weird."

"Yeah, very. But hey— I don't judge."

Tasha came over at least once a week, sometimes we would go out to eat, or her and her girlfriend Maddy would invite me to hang out somewhere—they were my only friends.

"Well- I just came here to wish you good morning, and I brought you cookies I made last night." She sets a container of them on the counter.

"Oooo, thank you." I smile as my laptop dings with an email. I peer around the counter to see who it was. "The lady responded." I turn the base of the laptop so I could see.

'Yes, all is well! Thank you for asking.
I was thinking the Caffè Bene, 333 Massachusetts Ave.
Early afternoon at 12:00pm. Is that okay for your schedule?'