🗸 the quintessences of cherry & cigarette

|| interlude ||

Devin can't sleep. A vague fear keeps infiltrating his system, making him apprehensive about the upcoming day. He's not sure what exactly he's afraid of, but he definitely doesn't like being at the behest of this emotion. Devin Jameston hates feeling scared.

After another session of tossing and turning in his bed, Devin exasperatedly sits up, irritably staring at the curtains undulating in the gentle night breeze. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he checks the time on it. It's quarter past three in the morning; Cerise must be asleep. Briefly deliberating on calling her up to cancel tomorrow's plan, he finally decides against it. This was bound to happen sooner or later, and it's better to get this done and over with sooner than later. Replacing his phone on the nightstand, he lies back down with one hand underneath his head and the other laid across his stomach.

In spite of repeatedly asserting to himself that there is no use of worrying so much about his meeting with Cerise Miller, Devin ends up doing exactly that instead of making up for his perpetual sleep-depravity. Never has anyone ever gotten him as riled up as this girl - this girl with large, dark eyes, and long, ebony tresses, and mocha, gold skin, and a demeanor so sweet and shy...

As the first rays of sunlight kiss the earth, Devin gives up on trying to woo Lady Slumber, and leaves his bed to start the day early. Thirty minutes later, he is showered, dressed, and ready to go to work, despite the exhaustion that weighs his body down. He heads to the kitchen, without so much as blinking an eye as he casually steps over the man sprawled a little way from his bedroom door - his drunk as fuck father. Last night had required a little bit of physical force when that man barged into Devin's room asking for a fight. He'd been promptly punched in the face, passing out and collapsing right then and there.

Fixing himself a sandwich, which is consumed in three big bites, Devin takes his canteen from the fridge, taking a sip of its contents as he gets into the broken-down pick-up and rumbles along the slum-like neighborhood of Jeffersonville. Five minutes later, the landscape changes into a better kept conurbation, and after another ten minutes, he has entered Market Square. Parking his ride, he walks the last lap to The Brewery, which is only just opening.

"Good mornin', son," greets the middle-aged man struggling with the shutter of the cafe.

"Morning, Nick," Devin says, stopping beside his employer. "Need any help with that?"

"Yes!" Nick stops and steps back. "Please. Thing's drivin' me crazy."

Devin gives the shutter a firm jangle, then pulls it up hard. The metal rolls upwards with a thunderous clamor. He glances at Nick. "There's a way to it, you know."

Nick nods, impressed. "Well, I know now."

The two males go inside, where Devin is welcomed by Nick's pudgy, ever-exuberant wife Mallory. "Hiya, kiddo."

"Hey, Mallory."

"Ready to grab another day by the horns?"

Devin groans. "Not really."

Mallory pouts, patting his back. "Oh, don't be like that. Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it in my bones!"

Devin's bones tell him otherwise. Sighing, he chooses not to answer to that, and instead ties the customary apron around his waist - dark green, with The Brewery embroidered in gold. Time to 'grab another day by the horns' now...

The day goes by without any 'grabbing' required, and dot on ten-thirty, Devin asks Mallory for the rest of the day off, which she immediately agrees to. Hanging his apron back on its designated hook by the back door of The Brewery's kitchen, he hurries to his truck and revs up its old engine, pulling out of the parking lot to speed to Thomas Beach. He drives fast, lest his fear succeed in pulling him back and having him bail on Cerise.