Death To Thora - COMPLETE SHORT STORY

Two

I stumble into the cafe.

This time, I don't go for a table, I go straight for the bar. Suddenly, the man drinking alone at nine in the morning doesn't seem so odd anymore.

I'm too much of a mess to be scared of social interaction. I sit two seats down from him and order a bloody mary. The bartender doesn't ask questions, or even give me a second glance. Day-drinking must be common here. What else are they going to do if they don't have good wifi or reception? My crass judgment from yesterday has come full circle, it seems.

"Hair of the dog?" The man has dark hair and tattoos, a trend that I've begun to notice in this town. His eyes are charcoal, and he has a wonderfully maintained beard, not a single hair straying far from his chin. He looks unmistakably put together for a man that drinks liquor first thing in the morning, a conclusion I was unable to make yesterday, since I only saw his back. He's got the energy of a green, so that's how I categorize him. A deep, forest green.

"Nope." I pop the 'P' and sip on the drink as soon as the woman slides it to me.

"You're too blonde for this town. Didn't anyone tell you that before you came?" His voice is deep but his banter is light. "Seriously, you're making me insecure."

I laugh. "What, you wish you were blonde?"

"No," he answers, downing the rest of his burgundy glass, "I wish I was white blonde. Any other blonde wouldn't suit my features."

I choke on my drink. "Wow, you saw me sit next to you, looking like this–" I gesture to the mop of hair I classify as a lazy bun atop my head, "and felt insecure?"

He grins. "That's right. I wish I could do my hair like that, too, but I'm only working with this." He motions to his short hair, and I can feel his thick sarcasm.

I laugh harder this time, and he orders another drink. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"Rough day, yesterday?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Oh really? I'm a man that believes in bigfoot. Give me a try."

I do a double-take.

"I mean it." He sounds sincere, but I can't tell if he actually is. I have a feeling that only half of what he says is true.

I throw my hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay." I take another sip. "I'm pretty sure I found a dead body yesterday."

His eyebrows raise, and he drains at least half of the glass. "Yeah, you're right, I don't believe you."

"I mean it."

"You're serious?" He studies my face, and I don't flinch.

"Serious."

He sighs like he's debating my sincerity.

"Where?"

"On the street, between here and the apartment building."

"How do you know he was dead?"

"I checked. He had no pulse."

The bartender leans over the counter, wiping the orange drops that I didn't realize I spilt.

"Sorry," I offer.

"There was no body," she doesn't even look at me as she wipes the mess. "Alicia said she went and looked right after you told her."

Does everyone know everyone around here? "I know what I saw."

"Could be elevation sickness. I hear it can cause you to hallucinate." The man says.