If The World Ends Tomorrow | ONGOING

𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑒

𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟹𝚝𝚑

"Your regular, Giselle?" Ms. Jones asks, wiping her cheek leaving a trail of flour, or maybe it's powdered sugar. 

She's the owner of Bliss Delights, the only and best bakery in town. Also the only shop in town that doesn't had Peysle in the name of it. She's also Asher's mother, another reason we'd be perfect for eachother, his mother already loves me.

"You know it." I smile exchanging my 10-dollar bill for a box of freshly baked spice muffins, the warm delicious scent fills my nostrils, making my mouth water.

"And this," she holds up a bag with a chocolate chip cookie. "Is the on the house." she places it on top of the box of muffins.

"Thanks, Ms. Jones." 

I start walking backward careful not to bump into anyone.

"Anything for my favorite customer. Stay out of trouble kiddo." She adds.

"I will," I yell as I leave the store, the shop bells ringing. 

It smells like flowers outside, probably because the flower shop is right across the street, all the scents mixing smell like heaven, or as close as you can get to it. 

It's beautiful out, the birds are chirping, the sun is shining, people are strolling, smiling, laughing.

I can't imagine a day where Peysle on a Sunday morning gets boring, it's probably the one day of the week that's perfect. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm not drunk or high out my mind, but being fully sober is not something I'll ever be able to do, I'll settle for sober Sunday's though. 

For some reasons on Sunday mornings mind is quiet, Pax is quiet, I like to tell myself it's because God's looking over me on his special day of the week. Which is probably the furthest away from the truth you can get.

I'm pretty sure he hates me. 

I place the box of muffins, in the basket of my bike, kicking up the stopper.

"Morning, Mr. Collin!" I wave to Mr. Collin who always reading the latest newspaper on the bench by the entrance of the park, while he waits for his wife to finish her Sunday shopping at the boutique across the street.

"Good Morning, Giselle." He nods, lifting his hand in greeting. 

Next, I stop at the post office to collect Mrs. Huxleys's mail, she can't come into town anymore because of her arthritis and heart problems.

"Gizzy! Gizzy!" I turn my head to see a familiar face skipping up to me. James, the little guy, was my kindergarten buddy in 8th grade. "James," I greet, we do our handshake, the same one that won us a cupcake so many years ago.

"Will you play tetherball with us?" He points to his friends who are standing by the tether pole, one of them winks at me, making me laugh.

Kids.

I shake my head. "I wish, but I'm running late to Mrs. Huxley's."

He groans, a slight pout on his face. "Tomorrow then?"

"If you're lucky."

He sighs. "Ok, but you have to come to me, those guys you hang out with are scary."

"Ok, I will."

"Promise?"

I hold out my pinkie. "Pinkie promise," I agree.

He locks his pinkie with mine his face lighting up. "Bye Gizzy!"

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