Insomniac

Sam

unedited**

☽s.7☾

"Goodnight Dana."

I watched as Dana another coworker of mine who took parttime shifts wrapped her scarf around her neck and pulled up her hoodie covering her colourful hair. She was something of a beautician on the side which meant every week she was sporting a new and outrageous color in her hair, this time a pastel pink.

"You sure you're gonna be ok girl? Maybe I should close up I mean--"

I shook my head firmly, "Nope. Tonight is my night, and I'm getting paid for it. I can't let you do that."

She pursed her lips and gave me a reluctant look before glancing at the door and saying, "Okay... well if you're sure. I'll see you later."

I walked to the door flipping the open and closed sign all the while keeping my eyes on her retreating figure making sure she met the confines of her car safely. Once she revved up and made it out of the lot I turned to see the large empty diner.

The radio was still playing quietly and the ceiling fans humming steadily. The clock above the door tick tocked away as I set to work mopping and sweeping and cleaning up before I closed shop.

Somehow a half hour job turned into me wailing loudly along with a very sad playlist an hour and a half later pathetically close to tears. With Valentine's Day rapidly approaching and my wounded heart still raw I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for mself. Couple that with the cute songs playing on the radio celebrating the impending holiday-- basically rubbing my newfound single status in my face-- and a tiredness that I felt in my bones I couldn't help but get misty eyed. I also couldn't help turning on my banging breakup playlist. Neither could I help how terribly off key I was compared to my regular (quite impressive) singing voice as a result of the tears clogging the back of my throat and causing a lump to arise there.

I wasn't supposed to feel sad regarding our breakup, or well "break", that wasn't how I wanted it. I wasn't supposed to feel anything-- liberated at most, but this weepiness wasn't it. But what else could I expect? Guess I should've known that getting rid of something-- someone-- who was apart of your life or well apart of you for so long, would be painful in the least.

I concluded that crying for now was probably best. I was going through the grief cycle and I might as well let it out all now so that tomorrow when I woke up with red eyes I could also wake up with a clean slate. Then I could really start to get over him. Or maybe I'd start getting over him even sooner considering the last few songs on my achy-breaky-heart playlist were less achy-breaky and more empowering. A good listen to I Will Survive or Irreplaceable would have me back to normal.

Arming myself with a mop I walked out of the kitchen into the general dining area and kicked the bucket watching as it sloshed until I had it in the middle of the room. I set to work not bothering with a caution sign since I was the only one there. Halfway through my job I was resting my palms on the mop stick chin set atop my two hands as I sung to End of The Road by Boyz II Men.

Grabbing the mop suddenly I hollered, "We belong together! And you knooowww that I'm right, why do you play with my heart, why do you play with my mind?"

"Said we'd be forever! Said we'd never die."

I scoffed. One thing Jeff never did was offer up fake promises and insincere sweet nothings. He was logical, cool and calculating never the one to jump head first into a situation. He would 've never promised me any of those things.

Briefly before I carried on singing again I felt a prickle at the back of my neck and the cold kiss of another presence on my skin, but shook it off. Nope, no, no. There was nothing. I was just impossibly parinoid.