They say not to pour salt in an open wound.
If I am a wound, then you are the Dead Sea.
I sometimes wonder when you'll finally deem me salty enough for your liking.
Will I be enough tomorrow?
Next week?
Next month, perhaps?
I find myself buried in the white crystallization.
Are the grains not visible to you?
Can you not see me drowning?
Do you not see that it fills my lungs?
Inhale. White. Exhale.
Just breathe.
Inhale. White. Exhale
Will I ever taste unsalted air again, and relish in its refreshing feeling?
"Morning, stranger," I say turning to him.
"I have a name you know," he says as if he's told me a million times.
"Tell me what it is and I'll consider using it," I reply in a snarky manor.
"Guess," he toys with me.
"I don't have time for this, I need to get back to work. Are you gonna order anything, or are you gonna continue playing around?" I start getting slighty annoyed at him.
"The usual, sweetheart," he says and sits down in his usual seat.
I'll admit he's sparked a certain curiosity in me. I try to steer clear of guys like him, but something draws me in, like a magnetic force of some kind.
I begin to fix his americano and as I begin to bring it to him, he gives me a look. It was that type of look when your confused but focused on figuring something out.
"One americano," I say as I approach him, "and stop staring at me like that."
He didn't say anything, just continued staring.
I start to walk away after rolling my eyes at him and I feel him grab my arm to hold me back. He was gentle, as if he felt as though he could break me if he applied tol much pressure.
"Wait," he said.
"What?" I ask turning to face him.
"What time do you get off? Let me treat you to dinner" he says, almost with a slight pleading tone.
"I don't even know your name," I said teasingly.
"If I tell you will you come?" he asks.
"Maybe," I reply.
"It's Prince," he finally tells me.
"Seriously?" I ask, wondering if he's genuine.
"Yes, I'm serious," he tell me
"I like it. It suits you," I tell him with a sincere tone.
"What about you, what's your mysterious name Mr. Barista?" he asks.
"Gypsy."
YOU ARE READING
Gypsy
Romance...he smelled of lavender and sage... ...a slight hint of metal... ...familiarity... ‼️I am not using the title word as a slur against anyone, it is the name of the main character‼️ ⚠️Warning⚠️: Abuse, SH, trauma. ⚠️There may be instances where the...
