May exits the elevator off Stephan's flat before the sun is fully up that morning.
The street does not bustle with people, but street-vendors, all-nighters and runners are already up and about. Last night's one-night-standers also parade the streets in day's old clothes and contrite eyes.
Just as Theresa moves to leave the premise of the building, a well-built chest collides into her –
"Sorry —"
This collision lands her on the floor, unlike the three previous collisions with this particular figure.
"Lord, Theresa! I'm so sorry I always manage to walk literally into you."
The sigh that escapes her is nothing short of sarcastic. "Yet you've said sorry every time but still do it."
His early morning laugh is loud enough to disturb hungover people about. "I've been meaning to comment, you're activities with Stephan, for lack of a better word, sound so thrilling from the bedroom next door I believe you should be paid for them."
This comment has the mid-risen Theresa tripping back to the floor and landing on her butt twice before 7:00 AM. Jake, heists her up with concerned remarks about her balance.
"Huh, I'm fine." A forced smile breaks into her face with the words, not uttering a goodbye and red-cheeked, Theresa turns and walks out of the building.
More like runs.
Jake is confounded, the elevator ride proves to be a pensive one, reflecting on the curious actions of one brunette lady.
Entering the flat he encounters a splayed Stephan on the couch.
"Are you coming to the ball game tonight?"
YOU ARE READING
Emotional Outlets | ✓
Short StoryIn which a hooker falls in love with her client's roommate. snippet: "She'd wanted to slap him. Right across that goddamn handsome face. But then again, he is right. Isn't he? She is actually a whore. Isn't she?"
