Orange

one

"Farrr outt!" I hiss under my breath as a can of soft drink breaks through the plastic bag I hold close to my side and smashes onto my foot. I squeeze my eyes shut and stars flash across my eyelids. 

Squinting through tears, I hop about like a demented seagull, holding back some choice words as I do so. This is a public space after all and there are children present. A concerned looking mother ushers her doll-like daughter to her side, and wraps a protective arm around bony shoulders. She spares one worried glance at the growling psycho, aka me, standing across from them in the hotel lobby before speed-walking towards the stairs. 

My littlest toe is screaming in agony, and I begin to think that I may have broken it. It throbs with each beat of my heart and I force those few tears back into their ducts. I will not cry here, in this crowded lobby, where everyone is watching me.  

With a small snarl, I pick up the can of death, glaring at it with all my might, and hobble over to a vacant bench. With a small sigh I sit down on the wooden slats, and make a mental note to refrain from opening the drink for at least an hour or three, unless I want to be wearing it. Unfortunately I know this fact due to past experience. 

I close my eyes for a minute of relief, leaning against the cold alabaster wall and drop the lousy plastic bag beside me on the seat with unnecessary force. With a little groan, I swing my leg up onto the bench, resting my aching toe. This is actual bless, my toes throbbing has already subsided considerably. 

With more malice than necessary I glare down at the Fanta and pies I had gone out to buy only minutes ago. Oh how things went wrong. I should have just ordered room service and watched the latest episode of my favourite K-drama but oh no, my stomach was crying out for a meat pie. 

So, naturally, I had to get one. Now I may have two meat pies, a Snickers, a shaken can of Fanta and possibly a broken toe too. Well, maybe not broken, but badly bruised.

"How selfish," A high distasteful voice breaks through my wallowing, "taking up the whole seat when there are people who need it more!"

I open my eyes to see a stern looking middle aged lady glaring down at me through small spectacles perched on the end of her hook-like nose. This woman looks like a stone, her pant suit is slate grey, her severely cropped hair is slate grey and her eyes are slate grey. Her mouth is pursued like she has just bite into a lemon. She is also kind of terrifying. 

Lemon-lips has her thin arm around a frail looking old man who grins at me, his smile all gums. She lets out a huff, hands resting on her hips and her eyes narrow from behind her half-glasses, and I know that I am in for it. 

"I am so sorry-" I begin, jumping up so fast my head spins and jump to the side.

"Save your apologies for someone who cares, girl." She spits out the word 'girl' like it is a filthy word, and I feel as though I have been slapped. I even hold a hand to my cheek reflexively. 

"Please," I gesture to the now free seat, looking directly at the old man. 

"No, thank you. I just want to get to my room." His voice is slightly croaky, but full of mischief and I can't stop the grin that splits my face.

With a cute little head shake, he begins to hobble towards the elevators, waving off a wavering Lemon-lips. She hovers next to me for one too many heartbeats, and I begin to fear for my life. Thankfully, after giving me the foulest of looks and an energetic flick of her severely cut bob, she spins on her slate grey heels and hurries after him.

My sigh is a little over exaggerated as I pick up my bags from the seat. I pull a second plastic bag from my handbag, I am almost always over prepared, and double bag my pies and can of drink so my feet aren't crushed again. The lobby is nearly deserted, surprising as it is only seven o'clock. I begin walking towards the elevators.

There is a elevator half full and the doors are still open,  so I sped up, not wanting to wait for the next one. A familiar face peers at me over the others, its Lemon-lips and she seeks vengeance. Her smile curls into something ugly as she watches me hobble towards her. She waits until I am only meters away before pressing a button on the wall.

She smiles evilly as the doors begin to close, her grey eyes glittering with malice, and I come to a stop before the doors. Unbelievable, how could someone behave so horribly to someone they just met and don't even know. To think it was over something as trivial as accidently taking up a lobby seat.

"Urgh!" I cry out aloud, and begin to vent my frustration, "stuff you, you lemon-sucking, dream destroying, elevator door closing ... nasty old woman!"

I shake my fists at the door, and flip them the bird as aggressively as I can. Well, as aggressive as I can be with a plastic bag in one hand and my fluffy handbag in the other. But I continue anyway, because If I don't continue to act angry I may cry.

"Your haircut doesn't suit your face shape" I snarl after much deliberation, and wiggle my middle fingers at the stainless-steel doors, "we can see your turkey skin beneath you chin Lemon-face!"

Strangely I still feel irritated so I take it one step further and shake my fists at the heavens dramatically, like I am from some predictable soap opera that my grandmother would watch. Something called 'Wings of Love' or 'Hello Neighbour'...something like that.  

I am so into my little performance that I don't hear the footsteps behind me until it is too late. A loud 'humph' scares the bejesus out of me and I drop my plastic bag onto the floor. I bend down, and pick up my bag. The 'Jaws' theme plays in my head as I turn around very, very slowly. 

The irrational fear that Lemon-lips has somehow teleported behind me fills my head, and I begin to panic. Aw geez, I shouldn't have said the last thing about her hair, that was low. 

Oh god, I pointed out her turkey skin. I am actual dead meat. A dead girl walking. 

I turn to face the person behind me, an apology on my lips. But, it's not lemon-face, and I let out a long breath that I didn't realise I was holding. 

Instead, I find myself staring at a tall, devilishly handsome Korean man with an adorably floppy fringe. His hair one of the most vibrant shades of orange that I have ever seen. 

I smile at him politely, like my mumma taught me. But he just stares at me, with an expression that I could only also describe as being 'horrified.' 

My smile slips and a blush tints my cheeks. This tall, incredibly handsome Korean guy with the cutest fringe in existence has just seen me jump about like a crazy person and yell at an elevator. 

Heck. 

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Hiya,

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But please remember to be kind.

Love, B x