"She didn't know anything about him. He knew everything about her." | 2nd Place Winner in The Winter Rose Awards 2018 | Highest Rank: #36 in Paranormal
Lucky is just lucky. That's the only name she's known, and battling a permanent amnesia isn't fu...
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Wouldn't you know that on the one day she bothered to paint her nails and do her hair, it would storm. The white polish was already chipped, and her hair fell flat in the rain. That's why she usually just didn't do it. It wasn't that she didn't like being girly and looking pretty; it was just way too much work. So, she only ever dressed up now and then. It just so happened, that this time, she'd dressed herself up just enough to catch the eye of a killer.
The killer watched as she ducked inside the door and scurried up to the counter with her friend. She wouldn't be that interesting to anyone else, but he knew she didn't dress up often. To him, it was amusing—the way she took tiny steps in her heels.
He gave her a smirk and let his sharp, blue eyes drift over the menu. Though, he knew exactly what kind of drink he was going to get. He could order anything he wanted with the money he picked up, but he decided on coffee again anyways. Coffee was always the better choice. It was down-right necessary to drink coffee before wielding a gun.
It wasn't long before the waitress sat down a cup that was as black as her outfit. He took a sip and stared at the two flustered girls.
"That guy is staring at you, Lucky," Anna whispered from beside her.
Lucky's eyes went wide, and her cheeks got pink. She tugged on the side of her skirt and tried to pull it down just a bit. It was cute.
She whispered back. "Who?"
Lucky scanned the dining room. There was a couple with a toddler who was spitting pudding down his chin. There was a man in the corner wearing a white smile, a big red ring, and a stare that was geared right towards her—or maybe it was right past her. The very air around him seemed to freeze something inside of her—like déjà vu. She'd always had good intuition. It must have been him.
"That guy?" Lucky said as the man looked back down at his plate and took a sip of coffee.
"No," Anna said. She cut her eyes to the other side and bit her lip. Lucky was looking entirely in the wrong direction. "Look over there."
"Oh," Lucky whispered. Rows of tables held water rings and empty soda glasses, splattered ketchup and fries, and scattered chairs.
The actual onlooker stood up and laid a few dollar bills down on the table. He figured he wouldn't waste the time paying any other way, and at least he paid at all. Wasted time was the true crime. Killers didn't waste time.
"God, you're slow," Anna said. "That man over there...at the side table."
Lucky followed her gaze, but the side table was already empty. A drained cup of coffee and folded newspaper littered the table along with dented napkins, a wet spoon, and the crumpled bills. The guy, however, was gone.
