Saye Something Seattle

It was the kind of day where the sun was barely peaking through dark clouds, fighting to escape, so you knew that even though it was gloomy right now it would be bright later. I looked down into my mug of green tea the colour of jade when I felt a chill and ran my arms up and down my grey sweater. Steam rose up from my mug into my nose causing my glasses to fog and my nose to clear.

I got out of the chocolate brown chair and fished through a drawer for a frying pan. I was glad it was Sunday, the only day off work for me and my boyfriend. We both had two jobs because we were not in college yet, but we had both applied for nice ones and were hoping to get in. It was just too hard to live off of the jobs we had. I worked at the Barnes and Noble in the mall, as well as a short shift at the nearby Dairy Queen.

I placed the frying pan on the stove and set it on low heat. I watched as the stove made a crackling sound before bringing up a delicate flame that faded from a violet to a sunset orange. I opened the wooden door to the pantry as it made a slow creak sound before getting way up on my tippy toes from inside of my combat boots and reaching the cooking spray. I quickly uncapped it and spread a thin layer on the hot pan. I stepped over to the fridge to grabbed eggs and cheese.

I cracked four eggs carefully, making sure not to get the yellow slime and linen eggshells everywhere. When I see them slowly travel to the middle of the pan, Drake walks in, shaking the back of his fluffy blonde hair with his hands. He steps over to me and gives me a kiss. I look back at Drake as I move the eggs around with a spatula. He obviously just rolled out of bed, as he is wearing plaid flannel pants and no shirt.

"Morning." I say with a quiet voice, we both like peaceful mornings.

"Morning, so what are we doing today?" He asks in a calm voice.

"I'm not sure, maybe a little walk, so what do you want to drink?" I ask him, opening the silver fridge.

"Actually, I'll just have coffee." I close the fridge and walk over to the Kuerig on our black marble counter. As I hear the trickling sound of the coffee pouring, I let the amazing aroma fill my head. I had never really liked coffee, but I am willing to smell it anytime.

I set the mug of warm chesnut coloured coffee on the table and walked over to lean on the front door, I could see a beautiful illusion through the mosaic stained glass.

"Where are you going?" Drake asked from the other room.

"Oh, I am just getting the mail really quick." Drake nodded.

I opened the door and stepped onto the cement. In the distance I could see the figure of a woman, on her knees. I walked closer and confirmed that she was crying. As much as I wanted to ask why, it would be too rude.

I grabbed the mail from our mailbox and ran back inside.

"What's wrong, babe." Drake asks me.

"There is a woman outside, just bawling, I feel so bad, but I am not even sure why she is bothered." I look down at the wooden floor as I tell him.

"Do you think she was hurt?" He got up from his chair, worried.

"I guess I never though about that, it didn't seem like it, but I think we should check anyways." Drake nods and sprints to our room to find a shirt. I step outside and Drake follows a moment later.

I run down the concrete, each time my boots making a clicking sound. The woman is still there, wearing blue jeans and a grey tee shirt that looks as if it had been through much.

"Uum, ma'am, are you hurt?" I say polite but with seriousness.

"No," she picks herself off of the ground and sniffs, "It's just, that my son, I lost him." She says between sobs. My eyes widen, that poor woman, that poor child.

"Did you call the police?" Drake asks worried.

"Yeah, I did, I just hope he hasn't gone far." she looks at the ground.

"Well, how about we get you in your house, don't worry yourself." She nods and proceeds to her brick house. The inside was very colourful, with a blue couch, yellow walls, and orange pillows. I could see a table next to the couch with a picture with a silver frame of a little boy. About 5 or 6, with pitch black hair and big mocha eyes, it made my heart sink to know he was lost.

"So where did he run off?" Drake asks, seating himself on a yellow chair.

"Just at the corner, I was taking out the trash when Eric followed, and I guess he just-" The woman starts to sob again.

"No, it's fine, we will keep an eye out for him, what did you say your name was?" I try to calm her.

"Marie, its Marie Rose Mitchell." she says.

"Well Marie, don't worry, we'll leave you alone." And with that, we walked out.

~~~~~~~~~

That night, I couldn't go to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about that poor kid, Eric.

Drake finally got up and said "You still thinking about Eric." I just nodded my head.

"Hey, I am sure they will find him soon, I don't imagine he could have run off that far."

Just then I heard a dense sound outside. Drake perked up.

"Shit! Saye,That sounded like a gunshot."

Drake looked me in the eye, a dead stare.

"I need you to call nine-one-one, and stay in the house, please, I couldn't stand if something happened to you." I nod as he places his hands that are almost bigger than my whole head on the sides of my face, and gives me a passionate embrace. Then he runs out the door as I peek through the window.

I grab my phone off of its charger and dial the three numbers with my trembling fingers. The five second ringing seems to last eight decades, but finally someone picks up. After I inform the man that I was on 779 Elm Street (a/n best fucking street ever) and I had heard what might be gunfire, he says that he will be sending police, and an ambulance. How the fuck is it that easy?

I sit there in the corner, wanting to look out of our window, but also afraid to. I can hear the blurry sound of sirens in the distance, and I keep staying still. Wishing it would end and desperately hoping that it was a nightmare. After about ten minutes Drake walks in.

Not cautious, but a pained look in his eyes.

"It's Marie, she shot herself."  The blaring sirens seemed to die out and a concave sound filled my head.