Atticus and Indi.

Little Talks.

 She cupped the plastic cup that was meant to hold either a smoothie or juice; instead she sipped on chocolate milk that slowly dissipated from the cup as she neared town.  She’d order it a few times before and gotten looks as if to ask if she was sure that she didn’t want well, you know; juice.

Now they took it in their stride.

The kindhearted war veteran who waited by the counter at two o’clock every afternoon to take her order always smiled, reminiscing about the old war days when everything was simpler. She enjoyed listening to how he received each medal that hung in the cabinet on display in his living room.

“Indi, chocolate milk?” The late seventy year old man asked, smile lines appearing at the corners of his lips as she walked inside.

“Please Hank, my good man” She curtseyed and he tipped the old golf cap lying lazily on his head, covering the grayed hair underneath.

“A story for road?” He asked, pouring the milk from the carton into the cup.

“Sure” She leant against the counter, her hair lackeys sliding down my wrist. There had to be fourteen or so on each wrist, simply because unlike most women she had the habit of not losing them.

“We infiltrated enemy lines, a new recruit fell to my left. I looked down to see a flower blossom red over his hear, I silently prayed for the man. I then redeemed his loss with finding out some much need information that help us end the war” He nodded solemnly rather than proud at his accomplishment, he set down the plastic cup which had a pool of chocolate bubbles at the top.

He tore open a straw wrapper placing it in the drink.

He paused, his large sky blue eyes looking at her.

“That’s the medal they gave me to watch him die” He paused pointing a frail finger at the single medal behind the counter which hung on the coffee colored wall “They said it was bravery, while instead it was cowardly what I did that day” He shook his head, typing my order into the register.

“You helped save a lot of lives”

He smiled at her as he handed my drink over, the iciness of the milk setting into her palms.

“No, that man with the blossom upon his chest; he was the one that saved a lot of lives” She nodded as he spoke, sipping attentively at the milk.

She handed four crumpled one-dollar bills and a penny. He really should have charged her more considering the milk itself was four dollars despite its large carton and having to put it in cup should have cost her, but it didn’t. Yet she still left the man a penny, she liked to think it was for the wisdom he past on when he told his stories.

He waved as he placed the crumpled notes into there correct places, she walked out the door, waving back to him. She crossed the parking lot where a cathedral sat it was intricately structured. Large stained glass windows resided on the northern side of the building, it was nice to watch the sun set through them. Each different hue of panned glass made reflections on the cream walls that otherwise filled the church.

It had a tall steeple that could be seen from any point in town, it was the highest structure that had ever been built in the heart of the town and had seen far to many suicides for a place of worship. Not that she necessarily believed in god anyway, She’d tried when my friends told me of the big man upstairs as a child. But after attending church one Sunday with a friend’s family her mother drunk alcohol for the first time since Indi had been born.

She didn’t have a belief; she didn’t need to believe in anything as far as she was concerned. Other than the fact that the sky was blue and grass was green.