Short Story, Long

How Foolish of me (The Fool)

~~~

I sat at the table, feeling a mix of impatience and frustration as I drummed my nails across the polished brown wood. The chipped surface seemed to mirror my agitation, especially as I noticed my green-painted nails catching on the rough edges.

Every sound in the restaurant seemed to be doing just that with every passing second.

The clattering of cutlery against the plates, the clinking of glasses for a celebratory toast, and the laughter from a nearby table–where I presumed a couple sat–seeming to enjoy each other's company. I huffed in annoyance; it was a far cry from my own situation. I glanced at the empty seat across from me and annoyance crept up my spine. Almost two hours had passed, and my date had yet to arrive.

I rolled my eyes as my phone buzzed with a text on the table in front of me. Table manners had been tossed out the window ages ago. Despite my reluctance, I couldn't help but wonder if the text was from my date, possibly acknowledging his tardiness or, even worse, cancelling our plans. That would be far better than having me waste even more time in my day.

I found myself questioning why I had agreed to this date in the first place. My life as a workaholic had been more than satisfying... that is until McKenzie decided to intervene.

Despite my dedication, finding a decent apartment in this economy was nearly impossible, which is why I had a roommate, McKenzie. Over the past three years, we had developed a close bond, and she had become the closest thing I had to a best friend. A bit too close, it seemed, as a few days ago during movie night when we found ourselves on Tinder, resulting in her booking me a date with Mr. No-Show.

He seemed so perfect at the time. According to his profile, his name was Josh. He had straight, black hair that almost rivalled the waves of the ocean. Even though he was squinting in the photo, I could tell he had green eyes–the type that reminded me of the awful matcha McKenzie would often drink. His fair, freckled skin was complemented by a light stubble that adorned his chin and jawline. Quite a sight to look at, really.

He was a cat person, as the tuxedo cat nestled beside his face in the photograph gave that impression. The little ball of fur was the reason I swiped right on him; I was a cat enthusiast myself, with a silly ginger called Percy. (An avid Percy Jackson fan here). These were the aspects of his profile that stood out to me the most, but if I remember correctly, he had recently turned thirty. Only two years older than I was. He also expressed an interest in football and also enjoyed going on walks. From the get-go, he seemed nice. Oh, how foolish of me to think that.

Another notification lit up the screen of my phone, prompting me to reach for the sleek rectangular device. As I glanced at the darkened screen, my reflection revealed furrowed eyebrows hidden by my blunt bangs, and my intense brown eyes staring back at me.

I decided to straighten my shoulder-length black hair for the occasion. A fair contrast from the usual ponytail I wore for work. It caressed my bare shoulders that my thin-strapped blue dress failed to cover. The soft fabric had a simple design that gently poofed slightly outwards at the waist coming to a stop at my ankles where my open-toe ankle heelies started.

I couldn't help the bitter chuckle that fell from my mouth at the irony of getting dressed up for a date, only to be stood up in the end. I hadn't even wanted to go on the date in the first place, yet there I was, the one left feeling disappointed. Life certainly had a way of surprising me.

The text was not from my date, but from McKenzie who wanted to know how the date was going. I was lying through my teeth...well, my screen, so for the past two hours as to what was happening. Only one of us needed to feel like crap after this whole thing concluded.

Another ten minutes went by and I finally snapped. I'd finally accepted the fact that I got stood up. The stares from the other diners felt like daggers, and with frustration burning inside me, I abandoned the table. My assigned server gave me a sorrowful look as I passed her on my way to the door.

In my twenty-eight years of living, I had been on only four dates and this one was by far the worst! How foolish of me to think that this date would resort to any good.

As I approached the door, the remnants of the evening glow painted the streets with shimmering puddles. A reminder that it had been raining earlier. Despite the captivating scene, I couldn't linger to appreciate it. My only desire was to leave the restaurant and return home.

Stepping into the crisp autumn air, a slight shiver ran down my spine as the cool breeze brushed against my skin. The weather seemed to mirror my mood perfectly.

I caught sight of the restaurant's logo reflecting back at me, its white neon letters spelling out 'The Outline' in an elegant cursive font.

I stepped on it as if to crush it just as it had crushed my spirit, before moving to stand by the curb, waiting for a cab to drive by.

It wasn't long until I heard the sound of a motor approaching, but before I could see what it was, a sudden deluge of icy water drenched me.

Mouth agape and eyes wide, I looked at the culprit sitting in the driver's seat of the sleek, black car. Staring back at me were the vivid matcha-green eyes of the person I least wanted to encounter–Josh, his expression a mirror of my own shock.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" I exclaimed, my voice rising to a shriek. Could this day get any worse?!

(word count: 1,020)
(published: April 1, 2024)

This was a prompt, and what I submitted, for a writing competition at my college.