Lefty's ✓

four.

July

I've met with Melissa four times these past couple weeks for coffee, for me at least; she drinks tea. I swear she puts eight packets of sugar in there. Her reasoning between getting tea over coffee is that it keeps her awake. Upon asking her why she'd need to be awake for so long, she didn't answer.

What I've learned from our last couple conversations is that Melissa is extremely secretive. Her exterior is hard as rock and there's no way in hell she'll let anyone pass it. Here I am trying to break through that wall, but she won't budge.

"So why'd you move here?" Melissa asks as she sips her hot cup of tea. The scalding drink burns her tongue and she flinches before looking back at me.

"Fresh start I guess," I say. My shoulders go up in shrug, not having anything else to say on the subject.

Melissa cocks an eyebrow. She seems skeptical about what I had said.

"There's nothing else to it, I swear."

If there was more I would have told her. I've never been good at hiding my thoughts and emotions. Ever since I was a kid, I could never keep my mouth shut about whatever it was that happened to me. My closest friends, even though there weren't many, had to constantly endure my talking. Whenever something, even something extremely small, happened to me, my mouth immediately ran. It had something to do with a constant need of recognition and acknowledgement. I wanted people to know I was there because if I didn't make them remember me, they wouldn't.

"If you say so," Melissa says. Just as I think she isn't going to say anything else, she says, "I just don't think that's the entire reason. Something must have evoked the need for a 'fresh start'".

Her fingers go up in the air, mimicking the two words I previously told her.

"Maybe you'll eventually tell me," Melissa murmurs into her drink.

The way she looks up at me with hooded eyes sends my brain into a frenzy. Her face manages to show several different expressions: want, confusion, contentment, and now wonder. Nevertheless, her eyes stay the same; blank. There's nothing behind the brown orbs that reflect back onto mine. It's as if her entire face is a facade.

"Maybe you'll eventually tell me your story," I say, silently hoping she'll say yes.

Melissa's small hands set her cup down and looks up at me and whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear, "Maybe not."