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『 not his phoenix 』
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"A TEN DOLLAR tip?" Delores's eyes widened when her mother had told her about the man in the black suit who came around that morning.
The mother and daughter were sat at the dinner table, eating onion soup— Delores's favorite. It also had been getting colder outside, it was nearing the middle of November, so obviously they enjoyed the warm food.
"Yeah." Beatrice said, a tad bit of confusion on her face, "I mean, sometimes Ed from down the street tips around five dollars, but rarely ever over that." she pondered aloud.
Delores sighed and shook her head, tucking her hair behind both her ears, "Why is he so obsessed with me?" she asked, looking up at her mom from her soup.
Beatrice let out a small laugh, "I'm not so sure about obsessed, but maybe just some kind of crush." she smiled at her daughter, "Although the middle name thing was odd."
"Yeah. It was definitely odd." Delores responded, "I would tell him to 'va te faire foutre', but I can't be within six feet of him without barfing."
"Hey. Language." Beatrice slightly scolded, "But I think you should see a doctor about that." she commented, pointing her spoon at the young woman.
Delores stirred her soup with her spoon, "I don't know what's happening to me." she said in an almost scared tone.
"Hey." Beatrice frowned when her daughter stared down at her soup, "It's going to be okay." she tried to assure.
A weak smile worked its way onto her lips, as she rose her head to look at her mother, "I hope so."
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Since it was Tuesday, Delores had the day off. Her mother had already left for the café early— like extremely early— in the morning, and Delores was home alone.
Delores needed to clear her head.
So, she decided a walk would maybe work. The cold winter air in her lungs. The ambiance of the suburban neighborhood.
It sounded peaceful.
Delores was wearing a puffer jacket to help with the cold since it was supposed to snow soon— but also it was really cold.
