Iggy's Bucket List

03.1: Of Funerals and Teardrops

Note: Warning you for a number of swear words used at the beginning of this chapter.

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Chapter Three point One: Of Funerals and Teardrops

"Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude."

-Anne Frank's Diary

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Imagine this scenario. You are standing in the middle of a huge crowd. People bump against you, they stomp on your feet and drag you inches from where you were standing originally, but they never really look at you in the eye and apologize. Imagine people carrying on with their own lives and they walk past you without even noticing that you are on the verge of tears. You, who felt betrayed and left, standing on your own two feet with all the possible kinds of people in the world around and no one has even bothered to look at you in the eye or scrutinize your face or ask if you are okay with them stomping on your flip flops. Got the scenario? Ever felt so lonely? If yes, congratulations because you exactly know how it feels to stand on Agatha's heels.

August just piped in and the skies were taunting to cry. The pond was still like there had been no living creature swimming across its murky depth. The trees solemnly swayed with the wind that carried warnings for the upcoming outburst of the heavy clouds above. How could the nature be so calm? The fishing rod stood forgotten against the bamboo pillars of the cottage while Agatha, who was as unmoving as her surroundings, sat on the bamboo-made table with her feet rested on the bamboo seat below her facing the pond. She was clutching something to her chest while her short hair fell onto her face, preventing anyone to see her eyes that blinked, sending a crystal-like liquid to the point of her ski-slope nose.

But Agatha does not just tear up like that; no one does. There has to be a reason. Here you go.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here."

The stranger just looked up at her, unfazed by the rage palpably etched in every syllable she pronounced.

He smiled and said smoothly, "Dismissing the fact that you cussed at me before even welcoming me to your house, good morning," then smiled again.

Agatha's jaw dropped with the words that just entered her system. "WHAT THE FUCK?" She ran her fingers through her morning hair, unable to contemplate what to say. She bit her inner lip, the hairs at the back of her neck standing because she had never seen a guy that creepy ever.

He stood up from the black, leather couch, his gaze not leaving Agatha. Before he could do another move, she already arrived to a conclusion and walked up to him, keeping a safe ten meter distance between them. "Leave," she said sternly.

"I'm pretty sure that you asked me to do that earlier, must I say midnight, and did I budge?" he said coolly.

"Fuck this. I am damn serious. Leave. I'm calling the cops. You are trespassing."

"I won't buy that, little girl," he replied and did the impossible. He raised his hand in level to his eyes and showed her something silver: the house key.

Agatha took a step back, shocked. "What the hell. Fuck," she muttered under her breath. Without being able to think of what to do or say to the creepiest stranger of the human race, she turned around and broke to a run towards her room, slamming the door the moment she had stepped inside. Her chest heaved as she sucked the very little air in her room. She bit her inner lip. Now, she was damn scared. God, the guy was more than creepy.

First, he, in the dead of the night, sat beside Agatha (it still counts as beside, nobody was in between them at the time). Second, he dialed their landline and greeted her a happy birthday; even a friend forgets birthdays and someone you do not know suddenly calls you to greet you and asks your wish. I mean, Agatha's mind spoke as if having its own vocal chords, who does that? Third, the stranger suddenly knew where she lived and how the hell could that be possible without even meeting together, and Agatha seeing him for the first time around the place having the fact that she rarely left the mountains? Well, those three could be irrational on another angle's respect because he had her phone where he probably got the landline number and her mother probably messaged her a lot when she had not been answering the calls (apologizing certainly for forgetting her birthday) and he might have seen her go in and out of the house in the mornings but why was there the need to leave her a note? AND HE WAS IN HER FREAKING HOUSE NOW- WITH FREAKING KEYS. WHO IN THE FREAKING HELL DOES THAT? Agatha's mind was hungry for answers and explanations.