blind eyes

07 Chris

He woke up with his cheek glued to the leather sofa that he was on, his back aching from spending the night crashed out in this exact location. The feeling of his skin peeling off the leather was awful, and he sat up and groaned. Fucking hell. He had been a pure bastard to Sunday last night and he knew it. He knew that he had to find a way to apologize and do it quickly, or he was going to drive her away just like he drove every good woman straight from his life. Motherfucking hell!

He stretched as he stood and then pressed his right ear to the door. It was eerily silent out there. Glancing down at his watch, he realized that it was still early: it was 9:15 am on a Monday. More than likely, no one would wake for hours yet. Thank fuck! He slid the door open slowly, as quietly as possible, and then tiptoed down the hallway and quickly off the bus.

He leaned against the cool metal of the bus as he checked his iPhone for the nearest Starbucks, which, fucking hell, was 5 miles from his present location according to gps. Realizing that he had no desire to Uber around Omaha, he settled on a small cafe that was within walking distance. He started walking before he even considered his appearance, and was forced to use the reflection in his phone as a shitty excuse for a mirror.

Presently, he had scrawny natural eyebrows, a film of blackness around his eyes, and a pathetic outline around his face that marked where his foundation had been the night before. It was, to put it nicely, a look. Coupled with his usual all black attire, he knew that he would be a sight to the peaceful Nebraskans that he encountered this morning but, so far, he was eerily alone.

When he stepped inside the Howlin' Hounds Coffee Shop, he was surprised to find himself still entirely alone save for the one fresh-faced and much too happy for this hour of the morning employee. She greeted him with a tremendous smile. "Good morning! How may I help you today?"

She was much too giddy for this hour as she bustled about making the drinks that he had ordered, and then bagging several muffins and pastries. When all was said and done, he felt like he wouldn't be a complete tool if he asked her his question. "Do you know where I can buy flowers around here?"

Her name tag read Ginger but she was a brunette. She continued to smile and it overtook her eyes with delight. "There's a small market on the next corner, that way," she pointed down the street to their left. "I believe they sell little handpicked bouquets on most days and they open at 9AM. So you might be in luck!"

For the first time that morning, he actually found himself grinning. "Thank you so very much."

"She'll forgive you, you know," Ginger informed him as he grabbed all of his items and turned to leave. "If you say you're sorry and you actually mean it, she'll forgive you."

He stared at her for a lengthy moment and then nodded hesitantly. "How do you know?"

"You're polite and you have a sincere smile," she cooed as though it were the most obvious thing in this world. "Women just want to be treated with kindness, love and sincerity. I can see in your eyes that you're one of the good ones. So, tell her that you're sorry, that you fucked up, and she'll forgive you."