Emma

chapter one

IT ALL BEGAN with me finding a diary at Jamstock. I had no clue who it belonged to, I had no time to look or ask around, so I took it. I realize how weird it must have looked in other people's eyes, a random guy picking up a journal from a table. I honestly didn't care at that time, I had to run my Elvis Presley looking ass to work.
I couldn't be late again, my boss would fire me. Even though it was just a little company, they were surprisingly very serious about how things ran.
At the ripe age of 25, I was already considering retirement. I couldn't handle bills, or any hardcore pressure. I tried to avoid drama at all costs, because it stresses me out. My coworkers believe that I was just born to be an antisocial devil. But I obviously say otherwise.
I was just a guy with family issues and mental instability. God forbid that I was OCD too, just adding to the hot mess.
I hurdle through the door of the office, my boss in the foyer tapping his foot. How sweet, she was waiting for me?
"Hmm, you're actually one minute early. I was anticipating that I would have to fire you." Her smooth voice echos around the foyer, causing the front desk lady to look up.
"Ms. Johnson, you know I'm too amazing to fire. You would totally miss me." I joke, trying to get her to smile.
Instead, she glares at me.
Yikes. Wrong time.
"I'm sure your coworkers would only miss you, Cliff. Get your ass to your desk and get to work."
Ouch.
I feign hurt, and slowly walk towards my desk. Ms. Johnson watching me, more glaring than watching, as I walk to my desk.
I straighten my tie, and begin work.
—————————————
"Hey Cliff, we're all going to this new bar in town, wanna come?" My coworker, Johnny asks.
I quirk and eyebrow, and gently shake my head.
Johnny's shoulders slump in defeat, and he starts to pout.
"Cliff, you've declined us ever since you discovered your balance in your bank account." Johnny pouts.
"Well yeah, John, I want to have a stable job and stable bank account, then we can go to the bar." I reply.
"Drinks are on me." He smiles.
I look at him. He has this knowing glint in his eyes, he knows that will win me over.
"Fine." I cave in. "But only if you're paying."
—————————————
I knew I would regret this. John is already so drunk and is flirting horribly with a group of women. You thought he would've given up already, but no, he's been at this for 20 minutes.
While he drunkenly babbles to them, they laugh. His horrible flirting seems to have annoyed them to the point where they actually are starting to like it. That's how we met. Well, not flirting. Mainly him just tossing jokes at me and trying to get me to crack a smile.  He eventually did.
And we became best buds. Quickly.
I tap John's shoulder to let him know I'm going home and he nods, before telling me to call him tomorrow so we can have 'bro time'.
I sigh, and nod, and then I leave. Just like that. Three hours of just downing alcohol couldn't fill the emptiness I felt in the seat next to me. I wish I had some confidence sometimes.
I sigh again, and brace myself for the long walk back to my apartment. And the huge hangover I will have in the morning.
—————————————-
Water. Bathroom. Food. That's basically the first three thoughts I had. Wincing at the pounding headache, I get out of my bed. Thankfully it was a Saturday, which meant no work until Tuesday.
I was living the good life.
But not right now.
Tossing back an ibuprofen with a giant gulp of water, I headed towards the shower.
After my long shower, I had thought about the journal. It sat right on the kitchen counter. My fingers were itching to pick it up and read the whole thing, but it would technically be invading someone's privacy.
So here I am, eating a piece of toast while staring intensely at the journal. I might jump it any minute.
Jesus Christ. I can't do this shit. I'm reading it.