Morning Cup

2. Angie, 0950.

It's been two fucking weeks since I laid eyes on my angel and I haven't made any progress since. Little if anything.

Her name is Angelina. What a fucking beautiful name, like a whisper in my ear or a caress on my cheek.

I've been stalking her on every occasion, the slightest time off has been dedicated to gather cues here and there.

Harrassing Debra from the headquarters, who knew everything about everyone in the base. She threw some bones at me but firmly refused to say more. Like there were secrets around my angel.

She just told me I looked pretty hooked and that if I stopped behaving like a dick, the girl would be lucky to have me.

Debrah was nice memories, I laid her a few times and she always said I was cute and attentive and knew to satisfy a girl.

"Your soft side will surely make her fall for you. That's how you got me."

"Debra, honey, I swear I'd be the lucky one if it comes to happen. And I'd never let her go."

She cupped my cheek and gave me the sweetest look I've never seen on her face.

"You're a sweet Teddy bear sometimes."

I nuzzled into her gentle touch just for a second, then leant forward and smacked a loud kiss on her cheek.

"Wish me luck baby!"

She winked at me and blew me a kiss
then waved me to go away.

It seemed nobody knew about her, I had hard time to make people talk.

Angelina McCarthy was like a ghost in the base. She lived in the brass quarter; she barely went out of it, no job nor friends known.

Michelle, my bittersweet hyena freaked the shit out of me.

I came back to her, silly me, and insisted to get an explanation to her "she's not for you anyway."

I got a slap in my face as an answer, along with a sarcastic:

"Love is blind Cup. Have you missed the stroller she was pushing? She's with child, asshole, do you think she conceived it all by herself?"

The world suddenly stopped turning and my guts jolted.

Please sweet Jesus, don't make her married already, save the happily ever after for me. For us.

Thinking of it more than twice, I haven't seen anything beyond her radiating face and waving hair.

How the fuck could I have fallen for just a face?

Think more idiot, was there a stroller?

It took me three nights and a punch in my right cheek given by my so-called best friend Mac to come to a conclusion.

Michelle is a liar. My angel is a single lady. No husband. No baby. No fucking stroller.

I have to know. I have to find out who she is and from what sky she's fallen.

It's almost 10 a.m. this Friday, my team and I are having a late breakfast in the café next to the landing field.

We've been up all night for a mission after the Intelligence intercepted a message talking about a Japanese raid around Kiribati area.

Lies. So much time lost to scrutinize the dark skies for nothing, I'd rather have spent dreaming of my angel.

I'm blurting an umpteenth joke out, having my squad laughing out of loud, when the cigar I was chewing almost falls on the floor.