Christopher waited behind the counter, staring impatiently out the enormous windows that stand adjacent to the red booths that line the resturaunt walls. Giving up any hope that Elanoor would show up, he reluctantly walked out to an elderly couples table, small tattoos sprinkled here and there along their pale, wrinkly arms. Glumly, Christopher asked the couple if they needed anything.
"Oh, no thank you, sunny boy. Meander on, young one," the old man replied.
Amused, Christopher smiled and loyaly walked back to his boring spot behind the counter, like a dog awaiting his master. Interrupting his daydreams of Elanoor, his boss shouted from the back of the kitchen. "HARDY, GET OUT OF HERE. YOUR SHIFT IS OVER."
Christophers forlorn turned to anger, as he snatched his bag out of the Workers' Locker and stormed out the door. "Why didn't she come. She needed to come. She's horrible, she's horrible, she's horrible...." he chanted to himself, stomping down the crowded sidewalk. His head was looking down, skimming over the cracks in the concrete, so no one could see the disappointment and loathing that lay in his eyes. He bumped into someone, rage had clouded his vision and he roughly pushed them off and away from him.
"Christopher?" Elanoor asked, holding her shoulder.
By the time Christopher had turned around, he could only see her head, barely visible above the crowd, gone, lost in a ocean of strangers. Desperation surged through him. He turned around and in despair, tried to swim his way back to Elanoor. Back through the ocean of strangers.
But she was gone. He had let his indignation get the best of him, and she slipped through his fingers.
YOU ARE READING
our tattoos.
Teen Fictionimagine a universe where everyone is born with a very unique tattoo on their ankle. nobody else in the world has that tattoo. every time you fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on your body. -not necessarily soulmates, jus...
