The Run-In

Paranoia

Looking up from behind the counter, I notice little pinpricks of light in the darkening sky— my warning to get home soon.

"Arazely!" I shout through the little window that leads to the kitchen. "I'm gonna head home!"

I hear the running water stop abruptly as plates clink against the kitchen's sink. Arazely then bursts through the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen, ebullient even after an entire day of work.

"I'll close up shop today." she spurts, pushing her mass of black curls behind her shoulders. "I know how much you want to get home before dark."

It's true; I hate staying out after dark. My apartment is located in one of the sketchy areas of Seattle, South Park, and I don't want to be kidnapped by some gangsters.

"You're the best." I smile, opening my arms widely for a hug. Arazely gleefully accepts it and wraps her arms around me tightly.

Pulling away, I grab my car keys from the wooden counter and slip my purse over my shoulder. I can hear Arazely walking around the café as her stilletos stab into the tile floor. She's the only person I know that's energetic enough to wear heels all day at work. I, on the other hand, pad over to the back door in my dirty, worn out vans. The door jingles as I exit, and Arazely barely manages a cheerful "Good night!" before it shuts behind me.

It's not completely dark out yet, but I still look around me to make sure that there are no hoodlums hiding in the shadows, waiting to kidnap me. Once the coast is clear, I shuffle over to my silver 2013 Honda Civic and hop inside of it. It stinks of coffee and salt and vinegar chips, two of my favorite things. I grab some chips from an open bag and shove them in my mouth before I stick the key in the ignition. Gravel crunches loudly under the tires as I swiftly back out of the employees' parking lot and into the quiet, vacant street. In fact, it's too quiet...

I turn up the radio and blast Taylor Swift, praying that "Bad Blood" will ward off the thugs. I then speed down the empty road to my apartment, reluctant to leave the safe glow emanating from Sasha's Café. The roads always seem too dark, too long, too deserted.

I decide to focus on deciphering Taylor's lyrics instead of dwelling on the possibility of being kidnapped. I let "Bad Blood" consume me as I fly towards home.

•

"Ahhh..." I sigh contentedly. My bed feels nice. Sure, it may be a lump of springs, but it's still a bed.

I pull the heavy sheets over my t-shirt clad body and let my body heat warm up the blankets. The winter months are nearing, and the only pajamas I own are an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. With a sucky heater and useless pajamas, I must rely on a pile of blankets and my own warmth to keep me from freezing.

The bed creaks loudly as I roll over, a nuisance. I'm complaining about my current life, but I've come very far on my own, actually. I have a stable job at Sasha's Café, I own my own apartment and a car (although the car doesn't really count because I got that when I turned 16), and I'm forming a great little circle of friends. I'm also going to the University of Washington for another year before I get my my bachelor's degree in nursing. I've accomplished a lot in three years, so I shouldn't be complaining. Sure, a having a boyfriend or at least a male friend would be nice, but you can't have it all.

These thoughts and worries wash over me as sleep slowly drags me into oblivion and out of the world.

[A/N]
This part of the story was originally from another story I kept as a draft, so it doesn't fit with this story perfectly. But I promise you, it gets better; just keep reading! Please vote, comment, and share, and thank you for reading!