the adventures of patrick and astrid

one. adventures of a coffee thief

day o1. in a coffee shop

           (more in the car than in the coffee shop but eh)

                                                             ----

“YOU WANNA GET OUT OF DODGE?”

  I looked up from my phone, which I had been staring at in hopes someone would call and apologize or something, anything, that said I was still welcome at home, when flaming red curls and big green eyes plopped down in front of me. She crossed her fingers, her eyebrows up in expectation.

  “Uh, what?” Not my finest reply, but the girl didn’t give me much to work with.

  “I said,” she continued, leaning forward. Her eyes dropped down to the cup of coffee, no cream, three sugars, I had sitting in front of me, then back up to me. “Do you want to get out of Dodge? Go somewhere.”

  “I don’t even know you,” I said, stupidly.

    “Knowledge is stupid,” she waved her hand in the air, most likely to look as if she was dismissing a thought, but turned out to look like she was swatting a fly. She probably was. Who knew? “I say, we forget the introductions and hit the road. I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas. Maybe even the Grand Canyon.”

  I sat, dumbfounded, as the girl went on about all of the places she wanted to see. Part of me was impressed at the guts she must have had to sit down with a complete stranger and attempt to plan a road trip. Not something you see in everyday life. To be honest, it’s not something you see ever. Even in movies, the two actually know each other.

    “What do you think?”

  She snapped me out of my thoughts--for the second time that day--and I looked up to reply, only to find my coffee sliding down her throat instead of mine.

    “Hey!” I called out, reaching over to snatch the cup out of her hands, only to retrieve it empty. “I paid for that.”

  “As any respectable man should for a lady.”

  “I bought it for myself, not for some ginger basket case.”

  “That’s offensive. I’m hurt, Patrick.”

  “I don’t care if I hurt your feelings, you stole my coffee!”

    She stared at me, and I at her, and it wasn’t until she stood up and began to walk away that I realized I had never told her my name.

    “Wait! Lady!” I called, grabbing my things and rushing after her. I earned a few looks from some of the surrounding tables, but I completely ignored them as I pushed through the coffee shop’s doors.   Once I exited, she had disappeared. I looked down both sides of the parking lot which was stranded apart from my truck and a few cars. Whatever, I didn’t have time for this. Slipping my phone into my back pocket in order to free my hands, I began to search my hoodie for my keys. They were gone.   

What the--?

    Maybe I had left them inside. So I went inside, the cold air escaping from my breath into the warm atmosphere, and looked around for my keys. When I looked along the floors and inside the vintage cushions of the booth I had been sitting at and came up empty, I asked the workers and some of the customers if they had seen them. No of them had.

    I wasn’t about to call my parents. No, I wasn’t going to go crawling back to them  just because I lost my keys. This was my way of proving that I didn’t need to be treated like a child. I didn’t need their help. I was a responsible, well-guided ad--