My spring day. [COMPLETED]

until spring.

Your days don't feel good as they used to. Not that they were always colorful but being left with the longing, with the empty void in your gut was not the most pleasant thing. You rest your head on the bus window, thinking back to the last time you had to move on from someone...

"What if we go to the movies today hon?" the man plaits the long hair on the girl seated on his lap, eyes glued on the TV. "I don't want to go out today dad," the girl whines.

"He meant the other hon," a slim figured woman walks out of the kitchen holding three glasses of lemonade, hair just as long and silky as her daughter's. "And I think we should, you barely go out anyway sweetie. If not with your friends, you should at least with us."

"I don't have any friends, and never needed any either," she mumbles.

"What have we said about mumbling," her father lifts her to the side, giving space for his wife to snuggle up to his side.

"It'll be fun, we promise to not embarrass you," her mum chuckles, pinching her cheeks. Her dad starts tickling her sides, making her go off into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Her parents join in, eyes watering with tears; the good kind.

Their little bubble of happiness bursts with the ringing of a phone. The girl gets off her father's lap letting him stand, and snuggles into her mother instead. The two women watch the man attentively as his face goes pale, sweat buds forming on his forehead. Whatever he was hearing through the phone wasn't something good. "Dad?" Fear was now overtaking the remaining two occupants of the house. "Honey what is it?"

The man hangs up, and drops heavily into the armchair next to him, "I'm sorry." A single tear was streaking down his cheek; past the lines from the crinkles that formed when he laughs, past the spot where a soft dimple would appear every time he smiles, and falls off his cheek....

Tears were now flowing down your cheek. Your father had a heart attack that day; the call was from the bank rejecting his application for his loan. Your father was burdened with debt and that was his one way out. The rest of the memory escapes your mind as the bus comes to a halt. You quickly wipe your tears and get off, heading to the café. 

I'm 10 minutes late, shit. You see Mrs. Goldberg, standing outside, one hand on her hip and the other lifted to read the time off her watch. You start chuckling and then pretend to pant, "I'm so sorry, I had to walk all the way. The stupid bus had a breakdown." She eyes you suspiciously before huffing out angry fumes and walking inside. You smile to yourself and follow her, almost tripping over your feet as you meet a set of eyes, under a black hoodie, looking at you.

̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴ ̴

Hayoon was taking the order from the man who kept looking back to the kitchen, clearly expecting someone else. But that someone else was busy peeping through the round window of the salon door, hiding in the kitchen, heart in her hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice from behind makes you jump. You pull the woman to your side, "SHHHH Mrs. Goldberg, I'll tell you later."

"What? What is wrong with you young lady?" she tries to break free. You look her in the eye, still gripping her hand, "Please."

She peeps with you, "Who is that?" she whispers. 

"You don't have to whisper, and it's just someone I don't want to talk to right now."