insomnia

night ii

"I'm sorry Cash, but you know I can't do that," his uncle sighed. "If it were any other investment, it would be easier to get a loan from the bank, but running a cafe? There are so many here in the city that they would laugh in your face before kicking you out of their office."

Cash sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Are you sure that there's nothing you can do?"

"I'm positive."

"Well, thanks anyways," Cash grumbled before hanging up. He stood in the middle of his room, his chest rising up and down as he tried to control his heavy breathing.

A scream tore out of his throat as he chucked his phone across the room, enjoying the sound as his screen cracked and shattered. He put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. He needed to be calm. To not blow over.

With a sigh, he grabbed his guitar case and the stack of papers that held the information to his little cafe, his phone, his wallet, and his keys before stalking out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Central Park was a distance away from his one room flat, but he let the warm air take over his body and calm his tense muscles.

Ever since he graduated college, Cash had been in and out of many jobs, saving money to try and live out his dream. He wanted to buy a small space on a corner by Central Park so it had a great view. He wanted to own a cafe.

There would be booths and bars, all full with people buying his coffee and food. The lights would cast very little light over the cafe, and there would be a small stage in the back, lights pointed at the person playing the guitar or drums or just singing, everyone applauding the act. There would be muffins, scones, cookies, pound cakes, all the breads in his pastry cabinet. Mochas, cappuccinos, everything under the sun would be on his menu, even hot chocolate.

Speaking of hot chocolate, his thoughts went back to the girl from the previous night. She got on his nerves with her quick tongue and her ability to have bed head and still look gorgeous. Despite this, she was surprisingly good company.

Ish

Cash started to think about the cafe's expenses again, wondering if he would have to start singing on the street curb again since he needed more money as he entered the park.

His little clearing was a couple feet away when he heard the humming. As he drew nearer, the humming became louder until he concluded that it was coming from his clearing. Only one person had ever bothered him at the clearing, so it was no surprise that when the grass came into view he saw Ashlund's back facing him, her brown hair that was cut into a bob pulled back into a tiny ponytail.

"Oh, its you," Cash said coldly. "Whoopee."

Ashlund turned around to face him, a strained smile on her face. "I needed a muse. You were here last night and I thought you would be back. Put the two together along with my paints and my canvas, and it led me straight to here." She paused to take a breath, pointing a cup next to her. "Here's caffeine to try and get you to not be grumpy."

His eyebrows raised up, noticing the canvas and the paints in front of her and the two cups beside her. Small, wire framed glasses perched on her nose, and a paint brush was clutched in her small fingers.

"What are you doing here?" Was all that he could ask.

"Painting." She rolled her eyes. "Now sit down, you're making me feel awkward."

Cash slowly sat down beside her, taking the cup of coffee. "Is it poisoned?" He asked.

"Yep." She popped the 'p'.