Cinnamon, Blueberries, & Other Subjects to fill a Book of Poetry

Chapter 9: Spring

When I wake up, I find myself with an unwarranted amount of energy. I feel particularly motivated to do something productive, so I do. I clean my apartment from top to bottom, though admittedly there wasn't much to clean, and then settle comfortably onto my bed and arrange my papers and laptop in front of me. I am determined to get this article done before Jean hunts me down at the office and bites my head off.

And, I actually do. I find myself unusually focused and attribute it to my odd conversation with Fran last night. I push aside the thought that it also might be how I'm choosing to avoid thinking about how Reese still has yet to text me back. I throw myself back into my work and the next time I check the clock it's three in the afternoon and I've already got a majority of my paper done. I feel myself preen and decide that this is an accomplishment worth rewarding with a trip to the coffee shop and a blueberry smoothie. The weather is nice as I walk and I find my thoughts drifting to what Reese likes to do on an afternoon like this. I allow my mind to run with that idea, I tell myself it's just mild curiousity, as I make my way there. I walk in and have my drink within a matter of minutes. I settle into my usual spot and stare out the window as I drink. I think that I haven't felt this good in a long time. Not on my own, anyhow. It's nice. I wonder if it has anything to do with Reese. I remember the last time we were together and feel my cheeks heat up. I confusedly tell myself it's the heat as I finish off my drink.

As I'm walking home I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and wonder if it's Fran trying to follow up on last night. I know I at least have a few questions for her. Instead, I feel my breath hitch as I see Reese's name pop up. I smile despite myself, despite knowing I should be at least the slightest bit upset that he hasn't texted me until now, but all I can do is smile like a dope as I open it. It's a picture and I briefly try to decode whether that's a good or a bad thing, but I think I probably don't care because it's him and his truck and I can tell he's been working on it because he's wearing a neon orange tank top, god help me but it does fit well on him, and his face has what I can only assume is oil or grease or the like smeared on it. I wonder if he took the picture himself and then I wonder if he took it specifically for me and then I feel myself turning red so I decide to text back before I can think too hard on that.

I thought you weren't a mechanic?

-Sam

yea

but I know a thing or two

u working?

I was. I'm allowing myself to take a short break.

-Sam

I think about how odd it is that I'm not more upset. In fact, I'm extremely happy. I tell myself it's because I missed having a friend to talk to and I think that's at least partly true. I'm lost in thought for a second before I suddenly remember something I meant to ask him.

Do you know any other old buildings downtown?

I'm trying to feature them in my article

and I'd like your input.

-Sam

He takes a bit to respond and I find myself picturing that face he makes when I take him by surprise again. It makes me smile. He sends me back a handful of addresses and even a few pictures that I assume, perhaps hope is more accurate, he took. When I get home we're still texting and I feel a bit like a giddy teenager, but it's not an altogether unpleasant feeling. We swap photos and he tells me about the building he sends me. I think this is the most he's ever divulged about his life unprompted and I would be lying if I said I wasn't incredibly glad to have this small window into his life.

I don't get anymore work done that day.